


And Then I Saw You

by hughie87



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Reality, Angst, Arrow - Freeform, Canon Divergence, F/M, Flommy friendship, Gen, Multi, Papa Lance/Mama Smoak, Romance, Teenage Oliver/Teenage Felicity, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:57:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hughie87/pseuds/hughie87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Felicity Smoak's mother marries a detective from Starling City, Felicity finds her life thrown into chaos.  And that was only the beginning; because her life was about to change in ways she could never imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was born from a silly, off-handed comment I made about wanting Mama Smoak and Daddy Lance to meet because I thought they would be precious. Two hours later, with the help of some friends egging me on (=P), I had a fully-fledged story-plot and outline. And thus, this was born. Its completely AU with Mama Smoak and Daddy Lance meeting in Vegas and getting married, moving Felicity and Donna to Starling. There is no Sara and Daddy Lance's first wife has died a few years ago. That is the base knowledge you need to know going into this. Other than that, please enjoy!!!
> 
> Oh, and at no point in time will Oliver cheat on Laurel with Felicity. There is also some Lauriver in the beginning, but I promise this is an Olicity story and the Lauriver is only at the beginning. They are not together or even attempt when he gets back from the island.
> 
> I also based Felicity's behavior off the behavior we saw in the last episode of Arrow, 'The Secret Origins of Felicity Smoak'. It seems really out of character for her, but with seeing her history, I took the opportunity to really play up a sarcastic and smart-mouthed Felicity. 
> 
> This is the prologue. Its just to give y'all a glimpse of where we are starting and a hint at things to come. =) Really hope y'all will stick around for the rest.

**_PROLOGUE_ **

**_SEPTEMBER, 2004 – LAS VEGAS, NEVADA._ **

_Sweat trickled down the back of Felicity’s neck as she trudged up the outdoor staircase to the 3 rd floor apartment she shared with her mother, Donna, just off the Vegas Strip. Felicity reached up and pushed her long, thick, black hair off her shoulders; wishing she’d worn it in the ponytail her mother always nagged her to. “You have such a pretty face, Felicity! Let people see it!” Donna Smoak would coo from the doorway of the bathroom the mother and daughter shared as Felicity applied heavy eye make-up. Instead, she would make a sound of disgust in the back of her throat, roll her eyes and pull even more hair down around her face. She smirked as she remembered the expression her mother had when she put the new purple streaks in last weekend. Donna had tried to be cool, but Felicity could tell her mother was about to shoot out of the sky-high heels she wore. Felicity honestly didn’t understand why her mother tried. Donna always said she didn’t want Felicity to end up like her; a minimum wage cocktail waitress killing herself in back-breaking heels relying on her wavy blonde tresses and long legs to earn enough tips for the bills that month. Well, Donna could breathe easily, Felicity thought. She wasn’t **anything** like her mother and that started with her appearance. _

_With a relieved sigh, she reached the top of the stairs. She planted her feet on the balcony that ran the length of one of the sides of the building. Her apartment was just around the corner. Adjusting the weight of her laptop in her backpack, Felicity took long strides down the balcony; ready to meet the air conditioning in the apartment. Most days it was stifling since the superintendent wouldn’t fix the damn thing until it broke down completely, but at least the small suite of rooms was only 80-something degrees instead of the 100-something outside. Felicity dug around in the pocket of her baggy jeans for her door key, finding it rolling around with her burgundy colored lip-gloss and some loose change for the vending machines at school. She swung around the corner and inserted the key into the lock; jiggling and nursing the stubborn lock open. Swiveling her hips, she popped the door open with her right one and fell inside. With a huff, she dropped her school bag gently to the floor, glaring at the lock as she pushed the door shut. Another thing the super refused to fix._

_“Mom?” Felicity called out. Donna had mentioned possibly picking up an extra shift at the lounge this evening. Felicity shrugged. Seemed dinner was on her, tonight. She called out one more time. “Mo-om? Are you here?” She opened the fridge and pulled out a cold bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and brought the opening to her lips for a long swig. Kicking the door closed, Felicity walked out of the kitchen and into the small room that was their living and dining room combined. “You sure you’re not here, mom? Because I plan on dancing around the apartment in my underwear and that does not include – **watching my mother making out with a total stranger!!!** ”_ _Felicity screamed as she stumbled upon her mother and a man she’d never seen before kissing heatedly on the love seat under the window. She slapped a hand over her eyes when she was sure she’d also spied some evidence of some heavy petting._

_“Felicity, honey, you’re home!” Donna exclaimed brightly, hauling up the straps of her dress and shooting the man seated on the couch a sheepish grin. He returned it, the tips of his ear turning slightly red._

_“No! No, not home. Just… a figment of your imagination. Just as **this**_ _is a figment of my imagination otherwise I am going to need **so**_ _much therapy!” Felicity rambled as she retreated, hand still over her eyes. She squealed when her back hit the opposite wall. She scooted over, trying to find the entrance to the kitchen and her getaway exit._

_“Felicity, take your hand from over your eyes,” Donna ordered._

_Felicity shook her head. “I’m good. I’ve been thinking of trying this out. Makes somewhat of a societal statement, don’t you think? You know, see no evil, do no evil?”_

**_“Felicity,”_ ** _Donna said sternly._

_Felicity swallowed and lowered her hand a fraction. “Is it over?” She asked timidly._

_Donna lunged forward and grabbed Felicity by the arm. “Sweetie, there is someone I want you to meet.”_

_“Really?” Felicity muttered. “I would have assumed you would have introduced me **before** the tonsil hockey tournament. **Ow!”**_

_“Please be nice,” Donna hissed on the twinge of her pinch to Felicity’s backside. She led Felicity over to the man who’d stood from the couch, fidgeting with his collar nervously. He was tall and handsome in a craggy sort of way, his hair cropped close to his skull but still thick and luscious. He smiled at Felicity and Felicity couldn’t help herself from smiling back._

_“Felicity, I would like you to meet Detective Quentin Lance,” Donna announced proudly, standing beside the slender man, as if she was showing off a trophy from her latest hunting trip. “He’s here investigating a **murder,** all the way from Starling City!”_

_Lance reached forward, holding out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Felicity,” he supplied as he shook her hand enthusiastically. He had a northern accent, his words short and clipped. “Your mom here has been telling me all about you. Sounds like you’re a real good student. Good with computers and all that.”_

_“I’m flattered,” Felicity replied, casting a look at her mother. “Normally, I don’t even rate a mention with her conquests. You must be special!”_

**_“Felicity!”_ ** _Donna sputtered once more, her pretty blue eyes going wide._

_Quentin held up his hand, his smile still easy and natural. “It’s okay, Donna. I have a daughter around her age, too, remember?” Quentin turned back to Felicity. “Me and your mom were planning on grabbing a bite to eat. We were hoping you’d like to join us.”_

_Felicity could see her mother slightly behind the Detective, nodded vigorously with a bright smile. She narrowed her eyes at her mother; something seemed too ‘Gidget’ for her._

_“Gee,” Felicity began, smiling sweetly with her deep dimples on display. “I would love to, but the image of you and my mother sucking faces has permanently killed my appetite.”_

_“Fair enough.” Lance reached behind him and took Donna’s hand, grasping it lightly. “We’ll leave you to your dancing then.”_

_Felicity felt a blush suffuse her cheeks as the man led her mother out of the apartment and ducked back in, waving at her before closing the door. Pressing a hand to her temple, Felicity shuffled to her room._

_“I think I am having a stroke brought on by massive mortification,” she muttered as she went._

~ * ~ * ~

**_SEPTEMBER, 2004 – STARLING CITY, CALIFORNIA._ **

_“Oliver!” Laurel emitted a shrill giggle. She thrashed on the bed with Oliver poised over her, tickling her breathless._

_“Say it! Say you like my goatee or I will continue the tickle torture!” Oliver crowed, tightening his thighs around his girlfriend’s hips to ensure she didn’t escape._

_Laurel thrashed some more and then stilled, giving Oliver a mock glare. “Never! I will **never** say it!” She cried, fighting back a grin._

_Oliver pressed his lips together, tossing his hair out of his face. “Then you’ve chosen your doom.” He fell on Laurel, running his hands determinedly all along her sides and down her legs._

_Laurel caught onto his direction and began kicking out in earnest. “Oliver, no! No, Oliver, no! Not my feet. **Not my feet!”**_

_Oliver crouched at the end of her bed, her ankles imprisoned in his hands. “You know what to do,” Oliver informed her, smiling with mischievousness to his gaze._

_“I can’t!” Laurel still giggled, unrelenting._

_Oliver shrugged. “You have no one to blame but yourself.” He yanked off a sock and attacked Laurel’s foot with a vengeance._

_“Okay! Okay! I give! I give! I **love** your goatee! I **love** it!” Laurel finally screamed, her face red from laughter and her chest heaving from her struggles._

_Oliver halted his movements, pushing her jean clad leg over to the side and looking at her intensely. “Will you stroke it?”_

_Laurel’s eyebrows went up. “You have some really weird fantasies, Ollie.”_

_“Do you really think it looks funny?” Oliver asked seriously, releasing her leg and crawling up beside her once again on the double bed; lying down on his stomach and resting his chin in his hand._

_Turning over on her side, Laurel gazed at him. Her mouth quirked up in a smile. She reached out and lightly ran a finger against the slight stubble he’d let grow along his strong chin. Oliver faced her, placing a hand on her hip, the air in the room losing its playful mood._

_“I like it if you like it,” Laurel whispered sweetly._

_Oliver grinned, leaning in to meet her lips. Over to the side on a nightstand, Laurel’s phone chimed happily. Oliver growled when Laurel made to reach for it._

_“It could be my Dad! Do you want him to surprise us like he did **last** time?” Laurel reminded him with a chuckle._

_“Answer your stupid phone,” Oliver ordered, releasing Laurel to roll over and grab her phone. She jumped up and waved the screen at him, showing him the identity of the caller was indeed Detective Lance._

_“Hi, Daddy,” Laurel answered, stepping over by her dresser._

_Oliver rolled over onto his back, looking up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan. He listened to Laurel’s end of what seemed a benign conversation between her and her father. With Lance in Vegas on the trail of a murder suspect from Starling, he and Laurel had had unlimited freedom out from under the man’s prejudiced nose. And if Oliver was being honest, some of the thrill was gone. He liked Laurel; hell, he probably loved her, but there was something. Something pushing him and making his legs itch; something screaming at him to get out. They’d only been together exclusively for a few months and already Oliver felt trapped. He was only 19. It didn’t make sense for him to feel trapped, did it? He sat up abruptly, needing some air._

_Laurel plopped back on the bed, tossing her phone up toward the headboard. “Case is almost wrapped up,” Laurel began. “Dad says he should be home in another week or so. And he says he has a surprise for me. Do you think he won at the slots or something?” She asked with a laugh._

_Oliver turned his head to look at her. “Maybe,” he replied._

_Laurel’s brows furrowed. “Hey, are you okay?” She reached out and caressed the back of his neck, pulling him to face her._

_“Yeah,” Oliver reassured. He nodded forcefully. “Yeah, I’m fine. Hey, are you coming to Tommy’s party tonight?”_

_Laurel noticed the change of subject but disregarded it. She sighed and looked over at her desk which was hidden under books and loose-leaf notebook paper. She looked back at Oliver. “I would, but I have got to get my outline done for my Sociology paper.”_

_“Come on, Laurel,” Oliver needled. “Your dad is out of town; Mr. Merlyn finally lifted Tommy’s ban to his trust fund. This party is gonna be killer.”_

_“Yeah,” Laurel responded. “And it will **kill** my semester grade.”_

_“It’s not like you can’t blow off one paper,” Oliver told her, a little annoyed at her reluctance to drop her studies and come to the party with him which could be the last one before her father returned and put her back under surveillance._

_“You know, not all of us can afford to party our way through college,” Laurel admonished him. “Some of us actually have to **work** to stay there.”_

_“And you don’t think planning this party with Tommy wasn’t **work?”** Oliver retorted, ignoring the reprimand._

_Laurel eyed him, tucking some brown hair behind her ear. “Oliver, if you cracked a book you may find college is a lot easier than you think. Unless, it is your **goal** to get kicked out of all the top ten state schools.”_

_“Guess it’s a good thing I’m rich and pretty, don’t you think?” Oliver smiled brightly._

_Laurel rolled her eyes before leaning over to kiss her pretty, rich boyfriend._


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I beta'd this myself and my contacts were bothering me, so please forgive me for any mistakes! Hopefully, y'all can still enjoy it despite them, if any. =D

**_CHAPTER ONE_ **

**_JUNE, 2005 – STARLING CITY AIRPORT_ **

The airplane hit the tarmac with a tiny shudder. Felicity gripped the arm rests tightly in her hands, her knuckles turning white. When the ride smoothed out, she opened her eyes and released the breath she had been holding. Well, here she was. She couldn’t **_believe_** this was happening to her. Skirting her eyes to glance at her mother, Felicity groaned at the barely leashed excitement apparent on her face. With a huff, she reclined back against the seat. Maybe if she refused to get off the plane, they would be forced to take her back. She looked again at her mother. What mother did this to her child? The daughter she claimed to **_love_** so much? Uprooting her from her home, her friends, her family (albeit a small one) and depositing her in a new city, a new school with a bright, new shiny family that she couldn’t stand? If her mother really loved her, she would have left her in Vegas to finish out her high school career while staying with her best friend Kelsey.

With a screeching halt, the plane finally stopped and the seat belt sign blinked off. The cabin was alive with the buzz of conversation between flight attendants and passengers and above it all, the drone of the pilot thanking for flying and to enjoy their stay in Starling. **_Not very likely,_** Felicity thought bitterly. Donna popped up from her seat, making short work of hers and Felicity’s carry-ons. The rest of their things had been sent ahead. She handed Felicity her small suitcase and then watched her daughter expectantly. When Felicity made no move, Donna’s mouth hardened.

“Felicity, come on, honey,” Donna began lightly. “It’s time to get off the plane.”

Felicity rolled her head over and looked at her mother from behind the thick, dark purple sunglasses she had donned for the trip.

Donna’s smile got bigger and more plastered. “ ** _Felicity_** _,_ the plane has landed. We need to get off.”

A line of frustrated passengers trying to depart was forming behind Donna, their sighs and grumbles becoming ever more discernible to the human ear. Felicity stayed where she was. Maybe her plan would actually work. They could back to Vegas, to their crummy little apartment and pretend none of this had happened.

A flight attendant sauntered back to their row to see what the delay was about. “Excuse me, is there something wrong?” He asked with forced cheeriness.

Donna swallowed and continued looking at Felicity. “No, we’re just fine, thank you. It seems my daughter has forgotten the use of her legs.”

Felicity smirked at her mother’s retort. **_Nice one, Mom._**

“Well, until she remembers how to use them, maybe you could let these people pass?” He suggested condescendingly.

With a snort of disgust, Donna ducked back into her seat and sat down.

 ** _"Look,”_** Donna began quietly as people filed past them, some slowing down just enough to glare at them as they passed. “I know you are not happy with me for this. But maybe, instead of focusing on all you had to leave behind, why don’t you try focusing on all you’re coming to, hmm?” She lifted a hand and brushed Felicity’s hair lovingly.

“Like what?” Felicity replied, meeting her mother’s eyes from behind the dark glasses before pushing them up on her head. “A new city with no friends and a senior year in a new high school?”

“No,” Donna responded, her patience starting to wear. “Like a new house in a nice neighborhood and a nicer school with more opportunities than you had in Vegas. Like Quentin and Laurel welcoming us into their home and their lives –“

“Oh, please!” Felicity erupted angrily. She shot up from her seat and tumbled over her mother and into the aisle, pushing people aside as she went. She might not want to be in Starling, but she wanted to hear her mother’s gratitude speech even less. As if she should owe Detective Quentin Lance a damn thing! He was the reason she was here! Why should she thank him for that?

Felicity could hear her mother calling her as she stormed ahead and didn’t slow down. A claw-like grip latched onto her arm and yanked her around to face her mother. Felicity’s eyes widened at the fury she saw there. Her mother was usually very easy going to the point Felicity even wondered if she really cared sometimes. Looking into her snapping blue eyes, she wondered if this time she had finally pushed too far.

 ** _“Felicity Meghan Smoak,”_** Donna growled as she clutched her daughter tightly. She glanced over and saw the last remaining passengers and flight attendants watching them with curiosity. Her gaze came back to her daughter. “We are leaving this plane in a polite fashion. Now, **_march_** _.”_ And with that stern command and without letting go of Felicity’s arm, mother and daughter left the plane side by side.  

Neither of them spoke as they exited the plane and made their way through the terminal. Donna also did not release Felicity’s arm, either. They left the terminal and were immediately swallowed up by the hustle of people outside the gate.

“What?” Felicity snorted. “You mean Detective Lance isn’t here to meet his blushing bride?”

“Despite what you think,” Donna started quietly as she weaved them toward baggage claim. “I am not doing any of this to punish you in some way.”

“Really? Sure feels like it,” Felicity replied snottily.

“You know, Felicity, since your dad left us –“

“He didn’t leave **_us_** _,_ mother; he left **_you_** _,”_ Felicity interjected hotly.

They had reached the baggage carousel and waited silently as many bags that were not theirs traveled past them.

Finally, Donna spoke with careful control from beside Felicity. “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but unless you’ve heard from the man in the past 10 years since he left, I’m guessing you’re not going to.”

Felicity opened her mouth to reply but was quickly quieted when her mother took her by the shoulders and looked her deep in the eye.

“No matter how long we stay in Vegas, he is **_never_** coming back. We can sit in that little, broken-down apartment until we are both old and gray and he will **_never_** come back. Felicity, I waited for years for him to come back until I realized he was **_gone_** _._ You can be mad at me all you want, but honey, you have to accept your father is not coming back to get you. You can’t keep waiting for him to waltz back in and make everything right again,” Donna finished gently, reaching out to wipe away the tear that was traveling down Felicity’s cheek toward her trembling mouth.

Felicity nodded, her mouth turning down in a small apology. She spied their bags and grabbed all of them, slinging her mom’s bags onto her shoulder and taking charge of the rolling case. Donna breathed deeply. When Felicity had been a little girl, she didn’t see the harm of letting Felicity believe Marcus would eventually return. It wasn’t until she and Quentin has gotten serious that Donna realized just how much Felicity had expected and yearned for her father’s return.

As they walked along, Donna wrapped an arm around Felicity’s narrow shoulders and to her delight, Felicity didn’t shrug it off.

“What do you say we take the day for sight-seeing? Does that sound good to you?” Donna asked.

“Really?” Felicity asked, looking at her mother. “You don’t have any plans with Quentin?”

“Why don’t I tell him that you and I need a day to settle in? We’ll go check into a fancy hotel, eat really rich food and see what Starling City has to offer.”

Felicity nodded eagerly. “I’d like that.”

Donna leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Felicity’s cheek. “I love you, baby.”

“Geez, mom,” Felicity replied, rolling her eyes even as a small smile played at the corner of her lips.

 ~ * ~ * ~

Laurel sat curled in the recliner positioned by the electric fireplace which was currently a pile of ash, the last fire lit being back in March. She watched her father closely as he spoke on the telephone, his face full of disappointment but his voice sounding completely the opposite.

“Nah, I am sure! It sounds like you and Felicity need some time. We’ll get together tomorrow,” Lance paused and then his face split in a smile Laurel hadn’t seen in a few years. It sent sharp pain through her heart. “Love you, too. Yeah, tomorrow.”

Lance pulled the cordless phone away from his ear and disconnected the call, walking across the kitchen to replace it in its cradle. He came back to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, looking down at the ingredients for his famous Chicken Masala.

“Well, looks like it’s just you and me for dinner tonight, kiddo,” Lance informed Laurel as he looked up from his task of chopping mushrooms.  

“Don’t get too excited, Dad,” Laurel sarcastically replied as she pushed herself out of the recliner and came over, perching on one of the bar stools. “It’s such a shame your stripper friend can’t make it for dinner tonight.”

Lance’s face snapped up, his mouth set in a thin line and his eyes dark with anger. “She’s not a stripper, Laurel. I thought I made that clear.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Laurel replied off-handedly, sliding off the stool and wandering into the kitchen; heading for the fridge and a glass of orange juice. “I just always assume the women who work out there in heels and short skirts are strippers.”

There was a clatter as Lance tossed the knife and cutting board into the sink before turning to face Laurel in the small kitchen. He shook his head. “What is with you, Laurel? I didn’t raise you to be like this.”

“You’re right, Dad,” Laurel replied. “You _**didn’t**_ raise me. **_Mom_** did. You remember her? **_She_** raised me while you were out chasing the bad guys.”

“Of course, I remember your mother,” Lance said softly. “I loved her and I miss her every day.”

“Do you? Because you don’t seem to,” Laurel choked out, tears filling her eyes. “She’s only been gone four years! And you’re about to marry some woman you barely know!”

“Laurel, baby,” Lance crooned as he crossed the kitchen to pull his daughter into his arms. “Just because I am marrying Donna doesn’t mean I love your mother any less.”

“But it’s only been four years.” Laurel’s voice was muffled as she sniffled against her father’s shoulder. “You and mom were together when you were my age. How can you be ready to move in only four years?”

Lance pressed a kiss to Laurel’s forehead before pulling away so he could see her face. “Loving another person, it doesn’t take up any more room. In fact, it makes things bigger. Honey, your mother would not want me, or you, to still be mourning her. She’d want us to move on.”

“I’m just not ready for you to let her go,” Laurel mumbled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I am not letting your mother go, sweetie,” Lance replied. “I could never do that. It’s just… It’s lonely around here, Laurel. With you away at school, the place just gets really quiet. And I am tired of coming home to an empty house night after night.”

Laurel looked up at her father. “Couldn’t we just get you a puppy?”

Lance chuckled. “The thing is, what I had with your mother was amazing. I will never have that again. But I could have something different with someone else. And I am ready for that.”

“But I’m not,” Laurel whispered.

“Laurel,” Lance began seriously. “I don’t expect you to accept my choices, but I do expect you to respect them. Can I count on you for that?”  

Laurel stepped away from Quentin and shrugged. “I’ve got some research to do for a course project. I’ll be back down for some dinner later.”

Lance watched his daughter head up the staircase to her old room she’d grown up in. He rubbed his hands over his face before going back to preparing dinner. He understood his daughter’s reticence to accept the new woman in his life, but what was he to do? It was time they moved on; both of them. No one could live a full life if they were mourning the life they no longer had.

 ~ * ~ * ~

Upstairs, Laurel shut her door quietly instead of slamming it like she felt. Crossing the room, she flipped on her stereo and turned up the rock station she kept it on, the bass vibrations of the music thumping against the walls. Anything to drown out her father’s words! How could he ask this of her? It was like he was asking her to bury her mother all over again! How did he expect her to respect another woman cooking where her mother cooked? Reading in the overstuffed chair in the den as the sun set like her mother had? Sleeping where her mother had slept?

The tears that had threatened in the kitchen spilled over and Laurel buried her face in her hands as she sank to the floor. When the tears stemmed, she came up on her knees and crawled over to her purse, digging out her cell phone. She dialed a familiar number and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Laurel smiled as she heard Oliver’s low, dulcet voice.

“Over at Dad’s. I just wanted to call.”

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked.

Laurel’s mouth flattened into a line, tears close again at the concern she heard in Oliver’s voice. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Ollie, I know you’re not big on family things, but I really need you. Could you come to Starling tomorrow?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything is fine,” Laurel rushed to assure him. “But I’m **_not_** _._ I can’t do this, Ollie. It’s like he’s replacing her! How could he replace her?”

“Today was the big meet-and-greet, wasn’t it?”

“No,” Laurel groaned. “She called and said she and her brat needed to get settled. So, we’re doing it tomorrow. Look, Oliver, I know you and my Dad don’t always see eye to eye, but I need someone on my side. I don’t think I can go through this alone.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Oliver?” Laurel called when it continued.

“I can’t,” Oliver finally answered tentatively.

“Oh,” Laurel replied, fresh moisture in her eyes. “Okay. I –“

“It’s my Dad. He says if he doesn’t see me apply myself here, he’s going to send me to military school. I can’t go to military school. I wouldn’t make it. I don’t follow orders. At all,” he ended on a teasing note.

Laurel nodded. “I understand. They’d probably make you shave that silly goatee you spent so much time cultivating, too.”

The two shared a quiet laugh before the silence descended again.

“You can do this. You are the strongest, most accepting and forgiving person I know. If anyone can welcome a new person into their lives, it’s you.”

Laurel sighed.

“I’ll call you later. We can make plans for summer vacation.”

“Sure. Hey, why are you whispering?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “I’m in the library.”

Laurel snorted. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Oliver replied indignantly. “My dad was very convincing about the military school thing.”

“Oliver Queen in a library for something other than making out. I’m impressed.”

“Well, you should be,” Oliver paused. “I’m sorry I can’t make it out.”

“Just talking to you makes it better. I love you, Ollie.”

“Me, too.”

The phone went dead and Oliver blew out a breath. He sat on the edge of his bed in his dorm room, placing the phone on the nightstand close by.

“Who was that?” A sleepy voice muttered from behind him.

Oliver turned to look at the petite redhead cuddled in his bed, the late afternoon sun sneaking past some blinds. He slapped a smile on his face, shaking his head.

“No one,” Oliver replied.

The girl shrugged, catching that Oliver wasn’t going to give her a truthful answer anyway. Throwing his legs up, Oliver reclined back onto his narrow bed, arms behind his head as he contemplated the ceiling. A pale, slender arm came up and over his stomach, fingers tapping on his ribs. Oliver didn’t acknowledge it.

“Didn’t you have a class soon?” He reminded subtly.

The girl next to him sighed. He saw her roll her eyes as she gazed him.

“Can I at least use your shower?”

Oliver ignored the caustic tone of her request. He turned his head and turned on that bright smile that weakened so many knees. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

“Gee, thanks,” the redhead sneered. She threw the covers off and alighted from the bed, snatching her clothes from the floor around the room before prancing to the bathroom, slamming the door.

Clenching his jaw, Oliver got up himself. Yanking open drawers, he pulled out a fresh change of clothes for himself. He didn’t understand why he did this. Laurel needed him and he couldn’t face her; instead, he would hide here until the stain if his newest tryst was gone from him. Flopping back on the bed fully clothed, he waited for the girl whose name escaped him to finish showering so he could make good on his word and go to the library as he’d told Laurel. He’d do better, he would. Laurel deserved better. Oliver swallowed when the thought swam up from somewhere deep that maybe… That wasn’t him.

 ~ * ~ * ~

**_JULY, 2005 – STARLING CITY HALL_ **

“How are things looking from there?” Quentin asked his soon-to-be-bride as she stood peeking around the doorframe that looked into the cozy room located in the city hall building normally used for small wedding ceremonies such as theirs.

Donna looked at him over her shoulder, her long blonde hair swept up into an abundant and elegant French twist at the base of her skull. The corners of her mouth turned downward as she faced him.

“They haven’t spoken two words to each other,” Donna answered sadly. Both she and Quentin approached the doorway and gazed at their daughters. “I was really hoping things would be different.”

Felicity and Laurel stood in matching dove gray dresses; sleeveless and ending just above their knees, in a flowing chiffon fabric. They each wore silver, open-toed sandals and carried a gathering of peach carnations. The girls’ dark hair was styled to match Donna’s in a French twist. They looked lovely. If only their expressions matched their physical appearance.   The stood on separate sides, heads turned away from each other.

Pushing away from the door, Donna, dressed in a peach colored frock similar to Felicity’s and Laurel’s, she crossed her arms.

“How can we do this to them, Quentin?” Donna asked him sadly. She gestured with an outstretched hand to their two teenage daughters in the other room. “They are so unhappy!”

Quentin stepped forward, putting his hands atop Donna’s shoulders and pulled into his arms. “And what about us, Donna?” He pulled away and looked down at the woman in his arms. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Do you want that?”

“I do, but –“

“Then that’s that,” Quentin said simply. “Laurel is an adult and Felicity is just a little behind her. Soon, they will both be making their own choices, just like we are. They may be unhappy now, but in time, they’ll move on.”

“Maybe Laurel was right. Your wife has only been gone for a few years,” Donna said absently, recalling the shrill accusation flung at them by a hysterical Laurel as she threw her napkin on the table and stomped from the room on the eve of their first official family dinner. Felicity hadn’t behaved much better. She’d sat sullenly across from Quentin, barely acknowledging anyone’s presence and only answering any questions in monosyllabic responses. When Laurel had stalked from the table and flew up the stairs, slamming the door, Felicity had slowly pushed back her chair. Looking at Quentin with a cold stare, she’d announced he would **_never_** be her father and had left the table, too, leaving Donna and Quentin alone with uneaten food and an uncomfortable silence.

“Hey,” Quentin replied, tilting Donna’s chin up with his index finger. “Dinah and I had a happy marriage and I will always be grateful for the years I had with her. I had my chance to say my goodbyes. I am ready to start the next chapter of my life. And that chapter begins with you.”

Donna smiled sweetly. “I’m glad you chose me.”

Quentin laughed. “If anyone needs to be glad, it’s me. Not every woman is patient to put up with an old hound like myself.”

Donna laid her hands on either weathered cheek of the seasoned Detective and pulled him down for a kiss. Upon release, she took his hands in hers. “Let’s make this official.”

“’Bout damn time!” Lance crowed. He cued his partner, Lucas Hilton, who hit the ‘play’ button on a small stereo they’d brought in.

When the strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D filtered out of the speakers, Lance offered his arm. Donna snatched the small bouquet of white carnations from a near-by chair and then tucked a small hand into Lance’s elbow. Opening the door wider, the couple sailed into the small chamber. As they walked down the aisle, they smiled only at each other, missing the horrified faces on each daughter.

It wasn’t until Donna and Quentin arrived in front of the justice of the peace performing the marriage rites that Felicity and Laurel realized the gravity of what was happening. Their tantrums, their freezing looks, their obstinate attitudes had all be in vain. Their parents were standing together, united and about to become one. Like it or not, Laurel Lance and Felicity Smoak were about to become sisters.

~ * ~ * ~

**_SEPTEMBER, 2005 – THE GRIND & JOLT CAFÉ, STARLING CITY_ **

Oliver stood on the sidewalk and looked inside the windows of the coffee shop. He spotted his best friend, Tommy Merlyn, sitting in a corner booth, his head buried in the Starling City Sentinel. No doubt Tommy was checking the sport scores for his next underground gambling ring, Oliver deduced with a grin. He meandered inside and weaved toward the booth, shooting his dazzling smile to a few female patrons. The women recognized the charming Oliver Queen and twittered behind hands as he passed; their hearts racing from his star-watt smile. He slid into the booth across from time, lounging against the booth.

Tommy lowered the paper. His eyes crinkled in an unseen smile as he looked at Oliver. “All hail the conquering Berkley hero. I am assuming your presence here means you passed the semester?”

“In a way,” Oliver replied, his mouth lifting at one side. “Depends on what you call “passing”.’

Tommy shook his head as he folded the paper and laid it on the table next to him. “So what is your story this time?”

“What story?” Oliver asked innocently. “There is no story. I say I passed, but the school may see things differently. Tell me,” Oliver leaned forward and lowered his voice. “How long do you think it will take before the school realizes I paid someone to hack in and change my grade?”

“Classic Oliver,” Tommy chuckled. “Are you planning on going back? By my calculations, you should be registering for another fall semester.”

Oliver leaned back, resting an arm along the back of the booth. “Ah, well, after two summer semesters back to back, I just don’t think my body can take the strain right now.” Oliver gave a weak cough.

“Ouch, yeah, that cough sounds bad. You should get that looked at. Could be tuberculosis,” Tommy replied, playing along with his friend’s charade.

“I agree,” Oliver finished. He sighed, content to be back on his familiar stomping grounds with his right-hand man. He perused the coffee shop, noticing all the high-school aged teenagers that seemed to be pouring in from the private school just around the corner. Oliver’s perusal of the coffee shop stopped, his eyes zeroing in on a girl he’d never seen before in all years he and Tommy had made this their unofficial meeting place.

“Who’s that?” Oliver asked, nodding toward the young woman behind the counter.

Tommy turned in the booth, looking over his shoulder. He turned back to Oliver. “That’s one of the new barista’s. She’s been here for about a month or so.”

“Really?” Oliver replied, his eyes taking in the girl’s face. Her face was obscured by dark hair and dark make-up, but Oliver could tell she was pretty in an unconventional way with her uplifted nose, plump lips and deep set eyes. Her skin was creamy and as she smiled, something he could tell was very rare, her cheeks dented into dimples. She moved behind the counter quickly and efficiently in baggy cargo pants and a cut-off purple sweat jacket, revealing a taunt swatch of skin between the short top and the cargo pants that sat on her hips. “Know anything about her?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows at his friend. He cleared his throat. “No,” he told Oliver. “Just when she started working here. Have you seen Laurel since you’ve been back?”

Oliver shook his head.

“You know her Dad got married to that woman he met in Vegas,” Tommy continued.

“Yeah, I heard,” Oliver said absently. He stood to leave the booth and walk to the counter. He felt a hand on his arm, holding his sleeve.

“She’s not really your type, Oliver,” Tommy observed.

Oliver shrugged. “I am just going to get some coffee, Tommy. Be back in a few.”

Oliver sauntered up to the counter and leaned against bar, waiting patiently as the girl mixed a drink.

“Just a sec!” She called over her shoulder to him.

Tommy was right; she wasn’t his type at all. She was short and curvy instead of long and lean. Not to mention, Oliver glimpsed the glint of a delicate silver hoop in one nostril, but there was something about her. Oliver couldn’t explain it but he felt drawn to her in a way he’d never experienced. He watched her move, fascinated by the grace in her hands as she mixed and stirred and capped. She wiped her hands on the apron she wore around her waist as she turned to face him.

“What can I get you?”

Oliver pulled up short. “Sorry,” he replied, flashing his signature grin. “I haven’t even really looked.”

The girl nodded, looking at him like a mental patient. “Well, just take your time, then.”

“What would you recommend?” Oliver asked quickly before the girl could turn away. He caught sight of her name tag. “Felicity. Beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” Felicity said slowly, gazing at him warily.

“So, what would you recommend, Felicity?” Oliver tested the name on his tongue. He liked it.

“I don’t drink coffee, actually. Makes me too jittery. Which is ironic, I know, given I work in a coffee shop,” Felicity rambled. “How about a Vanilla Bean Mocha with Espresso? That seems to be pretty generic.”

“Hit me,” Oliver replied affirmatively.   He sat on one of the stools and watched her get to work. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

Felicity gazed at him warily again around the espresso machine. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve been away at college, but this is a regular hang out for me. I would have remembered someone like you,” Oliver carried on.

“Oh, yeah,” Felicity cracked sarcastically. “I am sure you make it a point to get to know all your waitresses by their first names, too.”

“Only the ones whose names are worth knowing,” Oliver flirted smoothly.

Felicity was silent as she finished his drink, putting it in a to-go cup, though he didn’t order it to go. She set it on the counter in front of him. “That’ll be $5.46, please.”

“You know,” Oliver continued, his voice dropping to the velvety tone he used to get his way with the opposite sex. “If you ever wanna see a different side of Starling than coffee shops and hipsters, I know a few places we could go. They’re not exactly always open to the public but I could pull a few strings and –“

“Okay, Casanova, let me stop you right there,” Felicity interrupted, her blue eyes flashing with annoyance. “I can tell you are used to getting your flirty little way with your wide eyes and shy grin, but I have two words for you: **_Jail. Bait.”_**

Oliver swallowed, his palms growing clammy.

“And my step-father’s a cop, so I’d watch myself very closely if I were you,” Felicity finished with a charming smile.

Laying a ten dollar bill on the counter, muttering for her to keep the change gruffly, Oliver hurried back to the booth and took refuge behind Tommy’s newspaper.

“So, you strike out?” Tommy asked nonchalantly.

Oliver looked at his friend and glared. “Oh, she definitely wants me.”

Tommy nodded. “Sounds like she wanted you behind bars more.”

“Shut up, Merlyn!”

Tommy erupted with laughter, calling the attention of all the other customers. Oliver threw his newspaper back at him and scrambled out of the booth, walking as dignified as was possible out of the neighborhood coffee shop; Tommy right on his heels. As Oliver stepped out the door, he cast a glance behind him. The girl named Felicity was leaning over the counter, finagling with a customer’s laptop. She stood erect once more and smiled pleasantly at the customer before going back to her shop duties. The smile she had bestowed upon that lucky patron had been like a direct shot of sunlight. Oliver wandered just how old she really was.

“So,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder as he steered him away and down the busy sidewalk. “Putting that **_vastly shameful_** display of awkwardness behind us, whaddya say we hit up my Dad’s secret minibar he thinks I know **_nothing_** about and then hop over to Deville for some nightcaps.”

“No can do, Tommy-boy,” Oliver sighed. “I am having dinner at Laurel’s tonight and before that I need to make an appearance at home to satisfy the parental units.

“Dinner at Laurel’s? Tonight?” Tommy clarified.

“Yeah, so I gotta run. See you later?”

“Sure,” Tommy smirked.

Oliver stopped, looking at his friend’s strange expression. “What is that about?”

“Oh, nothing.” Tommy shook his head. “Have fun tonight. We’ll catch up later.”

 ~ * ~ * ~

Felicity opened the door to the house she and her mother had moved into with Detective Lance only a few months ago. Even though Felicity had her own room, she still felt like a guest in this home that was not her own. She opened the unlocked door and entered, dropping her bag by the door and taking a few steps into the kitchen where her mother and step-father were kissing (an all too frequent occurrence) and letting whatever was on the stovetop burn.

“Do you think you two could keep the PDA down to at least a barely nauseating level while I am here, please?” Felicity gagged as she entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. The two adults broke apart and smiled sheepishly at Felicity. “Hasn’t the honeymoon period ended yet?” She groused.

“Not for us, I guess,” Quentin chortled as he turned back to what he was doing on the stove.

“Well, it has for me,” Felicity mumbled.

“How was your day, sweetie?” Donna asked sweetly as she came to the table to snap peas into a bowl.

Felicity watched her mother for a few moments, her brows lifted. Donna was the picture of domesticity. Underneath the sweater sets and mom jeans, no one knew she used to be a skimpily-clad cocktail waitress at a gentlemen’s lounge. Felicity shook her head.

“My day was great! I burned myself six times on the espresso machine at work and got hit on by some creepy old dude at work,” Felicity commented.

Quentin turned around, his face hard. “How old we talking?”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Relax, **_Pops._** I told him I had a warden. Anyway, he was only, like, 20-something.”

“Really?” Donna smiled with interest. “Was he cute?”

“Oh, gawd, Mom!” Felicity exclaimed with disgust. She stood and stalked from the kitchen. “Just keep your nose in your own love life, okay?” She spat in parting.

Felicity grabbed her bag and bounded up the stairs. She was just entering her bedroom when Laurel came out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel.

“Oh, look. The **_spawn_** is home,” Laurel snarled.

Tossing her bag into her room, Felicity looked at Laurel. “I hate to tell you but that towel does **_nothing_** to distract from your narrow and pinched face. Looks like plastic surgery is really your only option.”

“Whatever,” Laurel replied with a roll of her eyes. “Look, my boyfriend is coming to dinner tonight. Can you and your stripper mother please try and act like you have **_some_** class tonight?”

Felicity bristled at the ‘word’ stripper. “She wasn’t a stripper,” Felicity whispered through gritted teeth.

“Could have fooled me by the fake boobs and the teased hair and drag-queen make-up. She can wear as many Martha Stewart outfits as she wants, but deep down, she’s still just a common slut.”

Felicity felt tears burn her eyes. “At least **_my_** mother is still **_alive_**.”

Laurel’s mouth snapped shut and her cheeks turned red. Her eyes matched Felicity, shining bright with unshed tears. She took a menacing step forward and Felicity fought hard not to cower.

“At least **_my_** father loved **_me_** enough to actually stick around,” Laurel growled.

“What is going on up here?”

Felicity and Laurel jumped when Quentin and Donna appeared at the top of the stairs. The girls looked at each other. Felicity swallowed. She backed away before turning to her mother and step-father.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said hurriedly, slipping between them and dashing the tears from her eyes as she went skipping quickly down the stairs.

“Felicity!” Donna called after her.

She didn’t listen. She had to get out of the house. Yanking a sweatshirt off a hook, she pulled the door open violently and shot out only to collide with a firm body. Bouncing off, she pushed her hair out of her eyes as the other person steadied her with their hands on her shoulders.

When she came face to face with the person she’d collided with, her mouth dropped open.

“Coffee shop Casanova?!” She cried with surprise, her eyes wide.

Oliver’s jaw dropped as well. **_“Jailbait?”_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Felicity's and Laurel's fight is pretty nasty, but sadly some of this is first-hand experience from a close friend of mine when her father married again. Thankfully, both she and her step-sister are good friends now, but the beginning was not pretty!


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, y'all!!
> 
> I am so sorry it took so long for me to update this!! Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, work, family, church! Wow, you name it, I had to get it done. 
> 
> Anyway, here we are! Back to the grindstone! So, when we left, Oliver and Felicity had just realized who they were to each other. Let the fun commence!
> 
> Future updates shouldn't take a few months to get from now on. Hope you enjoy!!

**_CHAPTER TWO_ **

Oliver pulled his fancy sports car up to the curb outside of the Lances’ two-story brick house. He had dropped by the Queen Estate but no one was there except the staff, so he’d nabbed the keys to his baby that his father had suspended him from and went for a drive. It was exhilarating to be behind the wheel again, zooming down country roads, putting the car through its paces like a fine thorough-bred horse. Soon he’d noticed the tank needed a refueling so he headed back into the city and on over to Laurel’s for the dinner she’d wrangled him into upon his return. Oliver was intrigued to meet Laurel’s step-mother since Laurel literally talked of nothing else; all of it unpleasant. And this brat of a daughter the woman had dragged along. He wasn’t too keen on seeing Quentin Lance again, but he’d make sacrifices. Lance had never had a high opinion of him. Especially since the night before Laurel had introduced Oliver to her father, he had been busted for public indecency when he and Tommy had gotten drunk and decided to swim with the sharks at the Starling City Aquarium. They’d been completely nude and about to climb a ladder in to the tank with the police arrived. Lance had been the arresting officer. Things had been frosty between them ever since.

Climbing out of the car and stepping onto the sidewalk, Oliver walked up to the house. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it out and fluffing it at the same time. He stepped up on the porch and halted, cocking an ear closer to the door. There was the sound of yelling and a door slamming. Crinkling his brows in confusion at the odd sounds, Oliver lifted his hand to grasp the knocker. With an arm poised at the door, he was shocked when the door flew open and a girl with dark hair came shooting out and crashed into him. He kept his feet but worried the girl would fall when she bounced off his chest, he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, steadying her as she pushed her hair impatiently out of her face. Watching her closely with an amused smile he waited for her to look up to see what she had hit. When she did lift her face, his heart clenched and his eyes bulged out, threatening to pop right out of his skull.

Her dark plum-stained mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as she registered who he was. “Casanova?!”

“Jailbait?!”

The two stood confusedly and peered at each other with something almost like amazement. Felicity’s mouth slowly formed into a tentative smile. “What are you doing here?”

Oliver opened his mouth but snapped it shut when Laurel’s voice was heard just inside the door.

“Oliver!” She came sailing out the front door, hair damp and curling about her shoulders. Her bright smile dimmed a fraction when she noticed how close Oliver and Felicity were standing, his hands on her shoulders intimately. “You’re early.”

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, pulling his hands from Felicity’s shoulders. He watched as the girl seemed to retreat into herself slightly, wrapping her arms protectively around her body. Dragging his eyes from Felicity, Oliver looked at Laurel. “Yeah, I went for a drive and just headed on over.”

Laurel still looked between Oliver and Felicity with an anxious smile. “What’s going on?”

“We almost had a fender-bender at the door,” Oliver answered quickly. “Watch where you’re going next time, kid.”

Felicity’s jaw clenched. And then her eyes flashed. “Oh…” She breathed. “You must be Laurel’s boyfriend, Oliver. We’ve heard so much about you! I am her step-sister, Felicity,” she told him with a sweet menace. She offered him her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Taking her hand, Oliver watched Felicity closely. Her hand was small and strong, the black nail polish chipped to reveal long, elegant nails. He shook her hand quickly; releasing her hand like it was burning.

“Come on, Oliver,” Laurel directed. “Let’s go inside.” She took Oliver’s arm and pulled him with her, eyeing Felicity with question at her weirdly polite attitude.

Felicity followed, a sly smile playing at her lips. She followed Laurel and Oliver closely, shutting the door behind her. Lance stood with Donna, his arm around her shoulders, at the bottom of the stairs.

“Detective Lance,” Oliver greeted stiltedly. Felicity knew from prior knowledge Lance wasn’t too fond of Oliver Queen but even their body language was strained. They shook hands briefly. Oliver turned to Donna who was smiling prettily. Felicity bristled when Laurel rolled her eyes.

Donna reached out, warmly taking Oliver’s hand in both of hers. “It’s so nice to meet you, Oliver. Laurel has said so many nice things about you!”

“Yeah,” Felicity concurred, pushing away from the door and swaying around the group. “Practically **_all_** she talks about. Like some strange or **_fatal_** attraction.” Felicity scrunched her nose innocently when she caught Laurel’s glare.

Oliver cleared his throat, an uneasy smile spreading across his face.

“Why don’t all of you go into the living room?” Donna suggested, gesturing to the open room they were all standing close to. “Dinner is almost ready. Felicity, why don’t you help me?” Donna gave Felicity no room for argument as she grabbed her daughter’s arm and forcefully pushed her into the kitchen.

“What has gotten into you?” Donna demanded in a hiss when she and Felicity were alone in the kitchen.

Felicity leaned casually against the counter, toying with the string of her hood. “Nothing. Why, Mom?”

Pulling some steaks from warming in the oven, Donna sent her daughter a knowing look. As she plated the steaks on a serving platter, she admonished softly, “Felicity, you need to be the bigger person and try to be nice to Laurel. This is all new to her –“

“And it’s not to me?” Felicity replied testily, crossing her arms. “You act like she is the only one having to deal with this unwanted development! No one asked me if I wanted to move two states over and leave all my friends! At least **_she_** didn’t have to give up her **_entire_** life!”

“Keep your voice down!” Donna hissed again, physically uncrossing Felicity’s arms and shoving the serving tray into her hands. “You really want to make Laurel’s life as miserable as yours? Then be nice to her. It will drive her insane. And then **_maybe_** Quentin and I will have some peace!”

“Why? Is our unhappiness interfering with you and him playing house? Wow, I’m sorry,” Felicity retorted.

Donna narrowed her eyes. “Well, at least you and Laurel have something in common.” She stepped around Felicity, carrying a bowl of baked asparagus and a basket of rolls. “Actually, you have more if you count how much you both hate me at the moment. Looks like the common ground just got wider, wouldn’t you say?” She snapped as she breezed past.

Shame and guilt rose up in Felicity, turning her cheeks red and causing her bottom lip to quiver. Felicity was not by nature a selfish person, but she’d never thought was her mother must have been feeling having her own daughter and the step-daughter she was trying to so hard to gain acceptance from, both cursing her existence. Donna was not an insecure woman but her greatest joy came from making other people happy. It never crossed Felicity’s mind that while her mother and Quentin seemed sickeningly happy with each other, her feud with Laurel was causing her mother daily pain.

“Felicity, please take that into the dining room,” Donna said as she entered the kitchen again, breaking the spiral of Felicity’s thoughts. Felicity waited until Donna picked up the dish of new potatoes before she followed her mother into the dining room. She stood back as Donna arranged the table, taking the serving platter from Felicity and situating it in the center of the table. Standing back, Donna gave a pleased nod. She turned and looked at Felicity, smiling at her. Reaching out, Donna cupped her daughter’s cheek, seeing the apology in her eyes.

“Why don’t you go save Oliver and Laurel from Quentin now?”

Felicity caught the roll of her eyes and nodded instead. She crossed the dining room and stood in the doorway of the living room. The three didn’t see her right away. She stood silent for a moment, watching the interaction. Lance sat in his favorite recliner; the one he watched the news in and yelled at sports team from. Laurel and Oliver sat adjacent from him on the mauve colored love seat; Laurel’s legs crossed with her arms linked through Oliver’s. All three looked as if they were being tortured despite their casual posture. They seemed to have run out of things to talk about within the minute they were seated.

Laurel caught sight of her. “What?”

Felicity bit back a retort. “Mom’s got dinner on the table.”

Lance jumped up. “Thank goodness,” he muttered. As he passed Felicity, he snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side, walking her to the dining room. Felicity swallowed as a warm and loved feeling coiled in her stomach.

Oliver excused himself to go wash his hands, assuring Laurel he remembered where the guest bathroom was. Lance and Donna seated themselves at the opposing ends of the table while Laurel squeezed between her father and the wall, seating herself so she faced out to the room. Felicity took the chair closest to her mother, a chair between her and Lance so she wouldn’t have to sit directly across from Laurel.

“Looks good, sweetheart!” Lance crowed. He leaned forward. “Where should we start?”

“Why don’t we wait for Oliver, Quentin?” Donna reminded pointedly.

“No need, I’m back,” Oliver announced as he walked back into the room. He pointed his feet in Laurel’s direction until he found a chair blocking his path. Looking down, he saw the chair Lance was holding out with an amused smile was the one between him and Felicity. Oliver cleared his throat. He glanced quickly over at Felicity. She was turned slightly away from him but he could tell by her wild eyes she knew what was happening. He looked again at Lance who was grinning broadly now.

“Have a seat!”

“Daddy –“ Laurel began.

“Sure,” Oliver said. “Thanks, Detective.” He sat gingerly, careful not to knock elbows with the girl next to him. Seated between his girlfriend’s father and her step-sister who he’d unknowingly hit on, Oliver felt his stomach roil with the awkwardness. He wanted nothing more than to get through this dinner and get out of this house. He began praying for time to speed itself up.

The conversation around the table was strained. With certain parties only speaking to certain parties, talk did not flow easily. Felicity did not speak unless she was spoken to and Laurel refused to speak unless it was to her father or Oliver. Oliver was all too aware of the girl at his side and her silent presence. It wasn’t until the meal was almost over that Donna and Oliver struck up a pleasant and easy exchange.

“So, how did you and Laurel meet?” Donna asked, still laughing from a story Oliver recounted of a fight between him and his younger sister, Thea. “I don’t think Quentin has ever told me.”

“Our mothers volunteered at the Merlyn Clinic so we grew up together,” Oliver answered.

“When did you two become an item?” Donna questioned again, her eyes dancing with the thought of a young romance.

“His parents had trouble keeping him in private schools, so they finally sentenced him to public school,” Laurel finally joined the conversation, a charming smile aimed Oliver’s way.

“I met Laurel and I went straight. For the most part,” Oliver added at Lance’s snort. “Laurel, of course, wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“She had taste, then,” Lance muttered darkly. Felicity caught a chuckle behind her napkin. Donna sent an admonishing glance at her husband who cleared his throat.

Oliver waited a few moments before continuing. “Our senior year of high school, we had a class trip to Belgium. I wasn’t allowed to go because of a few marks on my record, but that didn’t stop me. I snuck onto the plane. When we landed, I snuck out just as I had snuck on and gave myself a tour around Belgium. Of course, it completely slipped my mind that I would need a place to sleep at some point. Thankfully, I came across a small revival theater that was having an around the clock Shirley Temple marathon. I was able to charm my way in.”

He looked at Laurel to pick up the thread. Felicity couldn’t stop the eye roll this time.

Laurel’s smile widened. Oliver was the one topic she didn’t mind talking about, even to Donna. “I couldn’t sleep. It was my first time being so far away from home. I snuck out of our hotel and found this theater. I went in and sat down and they were showing ‘Stowaway’. I kept hearing this guy laughing, but I thought I was the only one in there. I finally found Oliver down on the front room with a box of stale popcorn in his lap.”

“My mother loves Shirley Temple,” Oliver interjected.

“Me, too!” Donna exclaimed happily. “I would force Felicity and her dad to watch them with me!”

“My mother has the entire collection. You should come over sometime. I know she would love to have someone else she didn’t have to harangue to watch with her,” Oliver offered openly before returning to his tale. “After the movie was over, we sat through another one and then the next until we fell asleep. After that, she found me irresistible,” Oliver plopped the last bit of his steak into his mouth, chewing with a goofy grin.

“Would have thought younger girls were more your type,” Felicity muttered next to him.

Oliver chocked at Felicity’s comment, not sure if anyone else at the table heard her.

“Are you okay?” Donna asked with concern.

Oliver nodded quickly; snatching his water glass and taking great gulps to help the bits of meat stuck in his throat wash down. Felicity pressed her napkin to her mouth, her shoulders shaking with mirth. Oliver looked discreetly to his side, meeting large slate blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

Talk once again petered out until the plates were empty.

“Everyone ready for dessert?” Donna offered.

Looking for an excuse to escape from the table and the crowding feeling she felt sitting next to Oliver, Felicity jumped up. “Let me get it, Mom!” She disappeared into the kitchen before Donna could protest.

The table was quiet again.

“I’ll see if she needs any help.”

Laurel and Quentin snapped their heads in Oliver’s direction; their faces shocked as Oliver pushed away from the table and followed Felicity into the kitchen. Lance’s face remained perplexed but Laurel’s face became stormy.

Walking quickly, Oliver slipped into the kitchen behind Felicity, knocking the swinging door closed that separated the room from the rest of the house nonchalantly, as if it had happened from the brush of air around him. At the sound, Felicity looked over her shoulder. She paused, her eyes widening at his presence before they narrowed and her mouth arranged itself into a sardonic smirk. She faced the fridge, opening it and pulling out a strawberry and chocolate layered trifle dish, setting it on the island as she kicked the fridge door closed with her foot.

“So,” Felicity began as she began pulling some polished silverware out of a drawer next to the fridge. Turning back to Oliver, she laid a serving spoon and a few forks down on some desserts napkins, her eyes lifting up from under her shapely brows to peer at Oliver. “You got me alone, **_kid.”_**    

Oliver swallowed, feeling as if the food he’d choked on in the dining room was still lodged in his throat. “Look, about that,” he gulped, taking a step closer, bracing his hands on the lip of the island. “I would have never…” Oliver trailed off, loath to call it ‘hitting’ on Felicity. Except it was exactly what he did.

“Made a complete ass of yourself?” Felicity supplied helpfully.

His jaw tightened. He was starting to sense why Laurel disliked this girl so much. He began again with measure. “I would have never approached you like that if I had known **_who_** you were.”

**“ _Ooh,”_** Felicity breathed in understanding. “You mean, you wouldn’t have tried to pick me up if you knew I was your girlfriend’s brand new step – sister; **_not_** because you **_have_** a girlfriend. That makes it okay, then.”

“That is not what I meant –“

“Then what **_did_** you mean?” Felicity spat out as she unearthed a few dessert plates from a lower cabinet and set them next to the trifle dish. “Because I have listened to her prattle on **_endlessly_** about her **_wonderful_** boyfriend for the past three months. Turns out, boyfriend is kind of a douche bag. Excuse me if I am far from impressed.”

“I would really appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention this to Laurel,” Oliver requested from behind clenched teeth. He knew the way he treated Laurel was shameful, but to be reprimanded by a teenager was too much.

“You mean my step-sister, a.k.a. the ‘Frigid Bitch’?” Felicity clarified. She got out a long wooden serving tray and began filling it with the silverware, plates and the napkins. “She wouldn’t even believe me if I said anything. And why would I tell her? As far as I am concerned, she **_deserves_** you.”

Oliver’s mouth hung open. This grouchy, grungy girl had just insulted Laurel and him, but all he could think of was the way her gray-blue eyes seemed to churn like an angry sea. Oliver never thought of himself as a sensitive person, especially when it came to other people’s feelings but there seemed to be a pain that made her words even sharper. He wasn't sure if that was his fault or if it was just aimed at anyone who was in her presence at the moment.

She picked up the trifle dish and rounded the island. She stopped beside him, the tip of her forehead barely in line with his chin. He looked down at her, the look he reserved for letting people know how far below him they sat on the societal pyramid. Instead of cowering or cutting her eyes away like most people did, Felicity shook the hair out of her face, staring out at him with her stubborn eyes.

“You gonna help?” She suggested.

Oliver heard the challenge in her voice. Plastering a fake smile on his face, he reached over and snatched the wooden serving tray into his hands.

“Good little millionaire,” Felicity cooed condescendingly as Oliver followed her out of the kitchen.

~ * ~ * ~

“You knew who she was, didn’t you? And you didn’t say anything!” Oliver accused crossly as he sat next to Tommy on the train. He glowered as Tommy laughed mercilessly next to him; his handsome face red and his arms hugging his sides. “You knew what I was walking into at dinner last night and you didn’t say a word!”

“What exactly was I supposed to say?” Tommy squeezed out between guffaws. He was even dangerously close to slapping his knee. “’Hey, Ollie, better not hit on her. Not only is she a minor but she’s your girlfriend’s evil step-sister.’ Which one would you have listened to? And no offense, but I’ve learned that when you have your eye on a certain female, it’s better to just let is play out the way it’s gonna go. Less pain that way.”

“For who? Me or you?” Oliver groused, still pouting.

Tommy sighed. “I do get a little enjoyment watching you flounder. It so rarely happens.”

“Factor in the obvious disapproval you have of me cheating on Laurel…” Oliver sent a side-long glance Tommy’s way. His best friend had the grace to look a tad sheepish.

The two sat in an uneasy silence as the train rumbled over the track into Starling City from their homes in the prestigious Castle Falls neighborhood. Tommy was the one who broke the silence first.

“You’re my best friend, Oliver. I’ll always have your back,” Tommy told him with surprising warmth. “But I like Laurel. I think she is good for you and I think you are prime-time stupid for treating her the way you do.”

Oliver hunched his shoulders as he slid down in the seat. “It’s not like I am proud of my behavior, Tommy,” Oliver muttered, fidgeting with the zipper on his puffed vest. “I don’t even know why I do, honestly.”

“What do you mean?”

Oliver looked over at Tommy. It was one of those rare occasions when his friend’s face was serious. Oliver could tell Tommy anything and Tommy never judged him. It was from years of being the only one who understood that though their lives seemed effortless and privileged to the outside world, they had to deal with complications and expectations others never would. And it was all heightened because of the wealth and power of the world they operated in.

“It’s like…” Oliver began tentatively. “It’s like things are perfect and then I start feeling claustrophobic and trapped. It’s like –“

“Like she expects something of you?” Tommy offered.

Oliver swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Something I can’t deliver.”

“Like what? What do you think Laurel expects?” Tommy probed.

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know. I have no idea what she could expect beyond what we already have.”

“Uh, maybe a future?” Tommy suggested with a ‘duh’ look. “We’ve both known Laurel since our mother’s volunteered at Merlyn Clinic together. She has always been planning some part of her life in advance. And now, that future includes you. You knew this going in. Tell me you really didn’t expect when you got involved with Laurel it would be a living-a-day-at-a-time deal.”

“I didn’t expect to be 20 years old with a lawyer-wife arguing about whose family we spend the holidays with!” Oliver exclaimed in exaggeration.

“And I am sure Laurel doesn’t expect the guy she thinks is madly in love with her to be sleeping around every time he feels hemmed in by their relationship!”

“You wanna say that a little louder, Merlyn! I don’t think the people in Oregon heard you!” Oliver hissed as he craned his neck around to see if there was someone they knew or a pesky paparazzi that was always dogging them within earshot.

“Oliver, tell me this. What did **_you_** expect when you and Laurel got together?” His tone held no hint of apology. In fact, it was a little hostile.

Rolling his eyes, Oliver shrugged.

“Face it, Oliver,” Tommy continued. “You wanted Laurel because she was the unattainable. Laurel wouldn’t give you the time of day back when we were in high school and you couldn’t stand that because you always got the girl. Now that you have the girl, you don’t know what to do with her. You don’t know what to do with the “happily ever after” so you have to create problems.”

“Is that what your therapist says?” Oliver snapped, resenting the hostility in Tommy’s voice. “And what would you know about it? When was the last time you had your parents **_and_** your girlfriend breathing down your neck?”

The moment the words left Oliver’s mouth he regretted them. Tommy’s lips pressed into a line and pain flashed in his eyes for a moment before it was hidden safely behind his normal carefree gaze. Ever since Rebecca Merlyn had been murdered over ten years ago, Malcolm Merlyn, Robert and Moira Queen’s lifelong best friend, had pulled away from his son. Tommy never mentioned his father much but Oliver knew he still smarted from his father’s lack of interest in his life. It was one of the few things the two young men **_didn’t_** talk about.

The train trundled to a stop and Tommy jumped up quickly, stuffing the morning paper into the chic briefcase he carried.

“Tommy, wait up!” Oliver called as he watched his best friend move hastily through the crowds to get away from him. Catching up with him, Oliver fell into step beside Tommy as they shuffled along the busy Starling City train platform. Oliver was silent until they reached the sidewalk outside the station. Tommy tried to walk a few steps ahead of him and Oliver let him, giving his friend his space. As they reached the Merlyn building where Tommy was pulling some kind of internship, Oliver finally found the nerve to speak again.

“Look, Tommy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Tommy nodded curtly without a word.

Oliver reached out and grabbed the other man’s shoulder. “Tommy!”

**_“What?”_** Tommy yelled, startling the nearest people in the sea of bodies rushing around them.

“Man, what is going on? I said I was sorry,” Oliver huffed. He knew why Tommy was annoyed but he wasn’t used to his affable pal being so touchy.

“I know you said you were sorry; it’s fine. I gotta go,” Tommy said coldly as he headed back toward the tall building.

Something dawned in Oliver’s mind and he had a sickening feeling. “Do you have feelings for Laurel?”

It was as if an invisible wall descended and Tommy barreled right into it. He pulled up short, his back painfully straight. Turning around, his face was an unreadable mask.

“That’s what it is, isn’t it?” Oliver continued with a hollow voice.

Tommy didn’t speak; he didn’t move.

“Tommy, just be honest with me,” Oliver prodded, meeting Tommy to stand right in front of the high glass windows of the Merlyn building. “Do you have feelings for Laurel?”

“I care about her,” Tommy answered quietly. “I always have. But she **_chose_** you.”

Oliver watched his oldest and closest friend walk away and disappear inside the modern lobby of his family’s building. He stood there with his jaw loosely hanging open while people shuffled around him. What the hell was he supposed to do with this?      

~ * ~ * ~

Felicity stood before her open locker as she exchanged the books she needed in between classes. She dropped her Advanced Calculus textbook into her shoulder bag as she shelved her American Literature textbook and then slammed the door shut and then spun the lock. Hitching the bag up on her shoulder, she turned; stopping short as she almost barreled into a group of girls clustered close to her locker. Felicity gave an exasperated sigh and crossed her arms, sending the leader of the gang a look that could kill.

“Don’t you have something better to do, Ashley?” Felicity inquired sarcastically. “Like gazing in a mirror and admiring the beauty that is quickly slipping away to crow’s feet and age spots?”

Ashley smiled a cold and charming smile as she pushed her long, dark wavy hair over her shoulder. She laughed mechanically, showing off her perfect white teeth before she settled her glittering black eyes back on Felicity.  

“Me and the girls have a question,” Ashley began, her voice chirping in that annoying perky manner she possessed.

Felicity rolled her eyes with a huff. Taking a big side step to the left, she gave Ashley and her goons wide berth. “Unless it’s about where you can shove your brand name Mary Jane shoes, I don’t have an answer.”

“You are so funny!” Ashley called to Felicity’s retreating back. “Actually, we were wondering how your mom paid for your tuition. Was it in stripper tips?”

Felicity halted, clenching her jaw. The hallway was slowly filling as students returned from their lunch period. A few cast glances her way, but others paid the scene no mind. She turned back to the group of four girls, Ashley at the head, an evil smirk on her face. “My mother was **_not_** a stripper.”

“Really?” Ashley asked in a mocking tone, taking a few tentative steps toward Felicity. “Because the story is that Detective Lance met her in a club where she worked. In Vegas. We all know what **_really_** goes on in those clubs.”

“You don’t know anything, Ashley. I doubt if you could even find Vegas on a map,” Felicity snarled, clutching her bag so tight her knuckles were turning white.

Ashley shrugged, only a few steps from Felicity now. “You can pretend all you want that you are one of us; that you **_belong_** here, but both of us know what you really are. Just some sad little wanna-be whose mother was lucky enough to snap up some poor schmuck stupid enough to fall for her.”

Before she could stop them, tears brimmed in Felicity’s eyes.

“Oooh,” Ashley cooed, reaching out and tugging Felicity’s loose hair harshly. “Did I make the ‘ittle baby cry?” Twitter of giggles came from Ashley’s posse.

Without any rational thought, Felicity’s hand flew to Ashley’s wrist, twisting it violently until the girl released her hair with a whimper. More glances than before came their way and other students slowed, watching the interaction between the two girls closely.

“Next time you touch me, I will break it!” Felicity spat as she bore down and put more pressure on Ashley’s wrist, watching tears spring in the other girl’s eyes. “Looks like working in a club will teach you a thing or two.” She released Ashley’s wrist and her eyes widened a little at her action when she saw the red welt rising on the girl’s pale skin. She opened her mouth to apologize.

**_“Bitch!”_** Ashley screamed, catching the attention of a school security guard down the hallway. “You wait until my father hears about this, you little slut!”

Felicity backed away with a pounding heart until she finally turned and ran, knocking a few of the other students who had gathered at the commotion out of her way. She flew past students, teachers and administrators, unheeding on their calls or orders to stop. All she knew was she needed to get out of there; she needed to breathe. As she ran, the tears finally broke and streamed down her face. She hit the door with the heel of her palms and raced out. She didn’t stop running until she’d circled the block. Arriving at a neighborhood park, Felicity collapsed on a bench, sobbing loudly with her head between her knees.

She hated it here! She hated the private school she’d been forced to attend. She hated the house she was forced to live in. She hated the two adults who pretended they cared about her existence. She hated those who made her feel more inferior than she ever had in Vegas. Even here, under the banner of a new start, she couldn’t escape the humiliation of having a mother who worked in a gentlemen’s lounge. Her breaths came in harsh gasps as she fought to calm down. After several moments, Felicity sat up, pushing the hair out of her face. She looked around and then down at her watch. Pushing herself up off the bench, Felicity began walking in the direction of home. Both Lance and her mother would be out and she could have some time to herself. And to craft an explanation of her behavior if Ashley made good on her threat to tell her father about what Felicity had done. In her defense, Ashley had made the first move.

As she walked down the sidewalk, tears still fell slowly. Felicity couldn’t stop them. She didn’t try. So wrapped up in her own emotions, she barely heard her name being called. It wasn’t until a hand clasped her shoulder that Felicity spun around with a surprised yelp.

“Hey,” Oliver Queen greeted hesitantly yet jovially.

Felicity continued to look at him with confusion, the sun shining down and making his blonde hair sparkle slightly. “What do you want?” She looked around. She was outside of the coffee shop where she worked; where she’d first met the guy standing in front of her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder still.

“I saw you walking and I was going to see –“ Oliver broke off and furrowed his brows. “Felicity, are you crying? What’s wrong?”

There was genuine concern in his eyes and Felicity folded her arms in closer to her. He was one of them, though. How could he understand? And why did he even care? He was everything she hated about Starling City rolled into one person. Rich, influential, **_perfect._**

Shaking off his comforting hand, Felicity threw up her hands. “Just… Just leave me alone,” she sighed tiredly.

“Felicity, look, let me at least give you a ride –“

“No!” Felicity exclaimed, causing Oliver to snap his mouth shut and stare at her. She held his gaze boldly, for once not bothering to hide the pain and anger she held inside. “Go find your perfect Laurel and go live in your perfect world. I can take care of myself.”

And without looking back, Felicity turned on her heel and left a stunned Oliver gaping on the sidewalk after her.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has come to my attention that the placement of Starling City in the San Francisco area of California was incorrect. Apparently, STAR City from the comics is rumored to be in either Seattle or San Fran and STARLING City from Arrow is probably in the Seattle, Washington area. And looking back and actually thinking about the show, the climate kinda matches Seattle more than sunny California. Well, after many hair-pulling sessions and sleepless nights I have decided to keep MY Starling in California because of all the work I have already done and just the environment I’ve created in my head. So, any of you who were wondering why the hell they seemed to be in California, but were just too polite to mention it, I just wanted you to know I have educated myself better but am too lazy to fix it!! :-P I hope y’all still enjoy it despite my geographical mix-up. :-) 
> 
> Also, the end of the chapter is pretty rough, but I PROMISE it will be fixed in the next!!

**_ CHAPTER THREE _ **

Dusk was settling as Felicity meandered into the neighborhood. Each time she turned toward home, something stopped her. **_Home_** _;_ the word rang hollow. This wasn’t home. As she shuffled along the busy sidewalks of Starling City, the afternoon turned to evening and a chill rolled in off the bay. Felicity knew with each minute she spent wandering the many avenues of the city, the more the likelihood of her mother and step-father finding out about her altercation with Ashley. And with Lance being a cop, she was sure he’d throw the book at her.

The house she lived in was sixth on the left. It wasn’t the kind of house Felicity has expected. It looked… Normal. She thought she was moving to the land of sun and sand and waves. And mansions. It **_was_** California; land of the new age and vision. Yet, this house was middle America boring. A rambling 1950’s ranch style with white-washed stucco and a red Mexican tile roof, the only thing to catch the eye was the sloping arches of the front porch, giving the house the look of a hacienda on the Mexican brush. The first story was lit brightly. Felicity halted at the driveway. She sighed as she knew they were waiting for her. With heavy steps, she approached the house. At least Laurel wasn’t home this weekend to make her predicament worse than it already was.

The door was unlocked. The entry was empty. Quietly, Felicity shut the door and attempted to sneak quickly past the living room and up the stairs to her room.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Felicity turned to stone. She circled around slowly. Lance stood in the doorway of the living room; his posture was loose with hands in his pockets but his face was drawn.

Throwing up her barriers, Felicity crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone keep calling me that? I am **_not_** a kid!”

Lance pushed away from the wall he was leaning against. “You’re right,” Lance agreed, holding Felicity’s stare as he came to stand directly in front of her. “A kid wouldn’t almost break a girl’s arm for asking for class notes.”

“Is that was she told you?!” Felicity screeched with disgust. “She is such lying bitch!”

Lance didn’t seem phased by his step-daughter’s outburst. Calmly, he replied, “What happened then, Felicity?”

Felicity fidgeted. She looked around. “Where is Mom?” She couldn’t see Donna letting Lance grill her by himself; unless she was completely livid. Donna didn’t get livid, though.

“She needed a few more things for dinner,” Lance answered, not taking his eyes off Felicity.

“Mom went to the grocery store?” Felicity looked at her watch. She looked back at Lance. “She knows, doesn’t she?”

Lance nodded.

Felicity’s shoulders slumped. Letting her messenger bag fall to the floor, she nudged it against the wall with her foot and went to the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised Lance was right on her heels.

“The few occasions I’ve sent mom over the edge, she **_always_** goes to the grocery store. I guess the mindless perusal of the aisles is soothing to her,” Felicity explained as she rummaged in the cabinets for the package of Keebler Fudge Deluxe cookies Donna kept hidden on the top shelf. Her fingers felt the slick plastic and she pulled them down, placing them on the island next to the carton of milk and two glasses Lance had set there, too.

“Your mom and I have had many late night conversations over milk and cookies,” Lance responded to the searching look Felicity gave him. “Looks like it runs in the family.”

Uncurling the opening and pulling out the cookie tray, Felicity snatched two out and took the full glass of milk Lance pushed toward her. Breaking one cookie in half, she dunked it into the milk, letting the milk soak in and making the cookie slightly soggy.

“She left you to talk to me, huh?”

Lance chewed the cookie thoughtfully and then swallowed. “Not necessarily. We agreed that she should calm down and then we would talk to you when you got home. Together.”

“How very ‘Ward and June Cleaver’ of you,” Felicity sniffed. She watched Lance closely. The side of his mouth lifted a trifle in amusement. When he didn’t say anything, Felicity tucked some stray hair behind her ear and then scratched her neck nervously. “Are we just gonna sit here and munch on cookies until she gets back?”

“If that is what you want,” Lance said easily. “Or you could tell me what happened. It’s up to you. I understand if you wanna wait until your mom gets back.”

Felicity didn’t want to wait until her mother got back. She didn’t want her mother to know what the kids at school called her; it would hurt her more than she deserved. Leaning a hip against the kitchen island, Felicity started in on her other cookie.

“The kids a school keep calling mom a stripper,” she began quietly. She saw Lance tense and the tips of his ears go red the way they did when he was getting ready to blow his top. His reaction made Felicity grin despite herself. The way Lance loved her mom was nice, even if it was gross to be around most days of the week.

Lance cleared his throat but his voice was still tight when he asked, “When did this start?”

“About two weeks after I started there,” Felicity answered. “Ashley’s father is-“

“I know who Ashley’s father is,” Lance broke in harshly.

“Sounds like a story is there,” Felicity observed.

Lance waved his hand as he reached for another cookie.

“Powerful attorney in Starling. I fingered his firm in a case for covering up some racketeering for their clients. His reputation never really recovered.”

Felicity’s cheeks went pink. “I’m sure that was a fun phone call this evening.”

“Very!” Lance barked happily. His amusement died abruptly. “Has Ashley been the one calling your mom a-“

“Yes,” Felicity supplied quickly; not wanting to hear the word fall from Lance’s lips. “I am pretty sure she started it. It’s just been sly remarks and petty jabs but today was… I just couldn’t ignore it today.”

Pressing his lips together, Lance moved over marginally, tentatively resting a hand on Felicity’s shoulder. He so longed to forge a bond with this girl who had landed in his home and life. Donna loved Felicity fiercely but Felicity kept her mother at arm’s length. Lance wanted to find some way to break down the barriers the girl kept around herself.

“What did she say today?” He asked softly.

Tears gathered in Felicity’s eyes as she remembered Ashley’s hurtful words. She sniffled and wiped her nose on the cuff of her long-sleeved jacket. “She asked me if that was how mom paid my tuition; in stripper tips.”

Felicity felt the sharp intake of breath as her utterance fell on Lance’s ears. His arm slipped around her and he pulled her to his side, hugging her lightly. She didn’t fight; instead, she leaned against his comforting presence, letting silent tears track down her cheeks.

“It made me angry,” Felicity continued, squeezing her eyes shut as more tears came. “It… hurt. And it made me angry that it hurt. I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me!”

“I know…” Lance replied soothingly as he brought Felicity against him in a full embrace, resting his chin on her hair as she cried into the collar of his shirt. “I know.” He held her tightly; just as he had done so many times with Laurel when she’d come home crying with a scraped knee or a broken heart. She may not see him as a father, but Lance knew this sarcastic, witty, sharp girl had stolen a piece of his heart just like her mother had.

“She also pulled my hair!” Felicity cried, causing Lance to chuckle. “It’s not funny,” she ended on a sniffle.

“I know,” Lance repeated, biting back another sound of amusement.

“How much trouble am I in?” Felicity mumbled against Lance’s chest after her crying had ebbed.

“That depends,” Lance began. “Is there someone who can corroborate your story?”

He felt Felicity stiffen. “Because you don’t believe me?”

Lance was glad Felicity couldn’t see him flinch at the coldness in her words. He shook his head forcefully. “No, I believe you. But I’m afraid William Rothschild the III of Ackerman, Rothschild & Eaves is going to need a little more convincing evidence not to make a complaint to the schoolboard.”

“Whoa… So, he’s ‘name on the letterhead’ important,” Felicity said as she pulled away from Lance. She didn’t go far, though, and Lance allowed himself a small smile. Taking another cookie out of the tray, she munched thoughtfully.

“Why do I have to go to that stupid private school?” She asked mournfully as she raised a glass of milk to her lips and took a long swallow.

“Because you are a very smart girl and deserve all the opportunities that comes with a school like that. It was very important to your mom you get a better education than you could in Vegas,” Lance answered the question in a tone that should have closed the conversation.

“Laurel went to a public school and she got a full ride to Stanford,” Felicity pointed out helpfully.

Lance nodded. “She did.”

“So, why can’t I?” Her voice was so small and searching; searching for a reason why her life had been up-ended.

This time, it was Lance who pulled away. He looked down at his step-daughter gravely. “Felicity, St. Ignatius has a great academics program, which I don’t pretend to know about. It also was supposed to have top-notch security. That is, until today when you were able to leave school grounds. Ever since Laurel’s mom died, I threw myself into the job; I’ve made a lot of enemies in this city. A lot of them are more powerful than they appear. Laurel got to go to public school because I wasn’t on too many shit lists like I am now. Your mom and I wanted you to be safe at school but we also wanted you to go to a place where you would get the kind of education you deserved. Hate to cramp your style, kiddo.”

The endearment this time didn’t prick Felicity’s ego; in fact, she was beginning to like it. “So, I guess I am stuck there until college?”

“Like glue. Plus, the school practically _begged_ to have you when they saw your transcripts from Vegas.”

“Did you really meet my mom in the lounge she worked at?”

A laugh burst forth from Lance. “How long you been waiting to ask me that?”

Felicity shrugged, trying to hide the smile that was blooming on her face. “Did you?” She persisted.

“Is that the gossip Ashley is passing around?”

Felicity nodded, her eyes dimming slightly.

Lance took a deep breath. “Yes, I did meet her at the club.”

“Man…”

“But she wasn’t working,” Lance corrected. “She’d come in to collect her check. I was outside smoking a cigarette. We were canvasing all the lounge owners in the neighborhood.”

“You smoked?”

Lance chuckled. “I did. Your mother was just coming out as I exhaled a big cloud of smoke.”

“A big pet peeve of hers,” Felicity informed him.

“Boy, is it! She stopped to lecture me on the risk I was posing to my health and to the environment.” A goofy and love-sick grin covered Lance’s face. Felicity rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the giggle bubbling up. “I was a goner. And I haven’t smoked a cigarette since that day. I’m cured.”

The sound of the lock in the front door being turned and unlatched signaled Donna’s return.

“Hide the contraband!” Lance hissed.

Like guilty children, Felicity and Lance hurriedly hid any evidence of their cookie binge. Lance was just closing the door on the dishwasher where he’d stashed the milk-film glasses when Donna entered the kitchen, her arms laden with grocery bags. She looked from her husband to her daughter, lowering her brows.

“What is going on?”

“Nothing, honey. Here, let me help you.” Lance stepped up and began placing shopping bags on the island.

“Thank you,” Donna answered absently, her eyes on Felicity.

“Felicity, why don’t you go upstairs and get started on that homework and we’ll call you for dinner?” Lance suggested quirking up a brow.

Felicity knew was he was doing and she was grateful.  

“Quentin, I-“ Donna started in disagreement only to halt when Lance leaned over and kissed her soundly.

“Later,” he whispered before returning to unpacking the myriad of bags.

Donna sighed heavily.

Pushing away from the cabinet, Felicity edged around the flurry of activity. As she passed her mother, she leaned against Donna briefly in a quick hug. “Sorry, Mom.”

Stunned, Donna watched Felicity leave the kitchen and then heard her footsteps on the stairs. She looked at Lance shrewdly.

“Okay, who was that and what have you done with my daughter?”

Lance bit back a smile and shrugged, setting a loaf of French bread on the counter. When he turned back to the almost empty bags, he spied Donna standing at the island, her eyes trained on him and a hand on her hip. The likeness to Felicity was startling that he couldn’t help but laugh.

“So, it’s funny now?” Donna snapped as she flustered around the kitchen, slamming cabinets and banging cookware in her frustration over her husband’s mirth. “Because you were as livid as I was when we got the call!”

“Honey, **_honey_.”** Lance caught Donna by her shoulders to still her movements. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to have a wife and a teenage daughter in the house together. Donna huffed and shook her long blonde waves out of her face, piercing Lance with her fiery blue stare. “You look so much like your daughter when you are unhappy.”

“My father was actually a red-head, as was Felicity’s father. We each came by our tempers honestly,” Donna warned.

“Look,” Lance started, deciding it was best to diffuse the situation with the explanation. “Felicity and I talked. Yeah, she could have handled what happened better, but she was provoked.”

Donna bit her lip before her shoulders went limp. “Provoked by someone asking for class notes?”

Lance shook his head, his face going hard. “That wasn’t what happened.”

“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does matter, Quentin,” Donna affirmed as she slipped out of his hold. “My sweet daughter used a physical defensive maneuver on another person for asking a simple question! I fail to see what is provoking about that.”

“She pulled her hair.”

“Excuse me?”

Lance nodded firmly. “It was self-defense. Ashley pulled her hair.”  

“What? Are they eight?” Donna exclaimed.

“Apparently, there was more to the story than Ashley told her father; which frankly, doesn’t surprise me. She is a Rothschild. She’s gonna make herself look good.”

“Quentin, the girl is 16; of course she in going to make herself look good.” Donna began making dinner in a calmer manner than before. “And Felicity has never lied to me. She detests it. I just don’t understand what caused all this.”

Not wanting to tell his wife what stupid high schoolers were passing around about her, he tried for a final time to close the subject. “Donna, it’s something that was really grating on Felicity and she didn’t handle it right. It’s not a big deal. It’s done. No need to hash it out.”  

“Quentin, I know what those parents say about me up at that school,” Donna replied matter of factly as she washed green leaf lettuce in the sink. She shook it out and then laid it on a flat dishtowel next to the sink and began patting it dry. “I wish you and Felicity would tell me instead of hiding it to spare my feelings.”

“You know?”

Donna sent him a glance telling him in no uncertain terms this wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with this.

“Of course, I know. It was exactly the same at Felicity’s old school. I busted my ass for eleven hours a day to afford a shitty apartment in a neighborhood almost 30 minutes from the club to make sure Felicity would be in a better district. And to hopefully shield her from my job.”

Lance joined Donna at the counter, helping where he could as they prepared the evening meal. “But that didn’t happen.”

A sigh that made Donna’s delicate shoulders slump escaped from her. When she spoke, there was a catch in her throat. “A group of men that served on the school board came into the club one night. While Maddux was a public school, they still reviewed all students and their families because they had one of the best records in Vegas. Felicity and my review was the next day. Vegas may seem like a big city, but word still gets around in certain circles.”

“Donna, I’m sorry.” It was all Lance could think to say after his wife’s story.

Sliding the meatloaf they’d shaped into the oven, Donna turned and shrugged. “It was a job. And it paid well. It kept my baby in decent clothes, with nutritious meals and able to get a good education. I have nothing to be ashamed of and neither did Felicity. I made an honest living. I was hoping to make a fresh start here, though; to close a door on that part of our lives. To just enjoy being a wife and mother again.”

Lance took Donna in his arms, holding her as if she was precious and kissing her tenderly. “You are amazing.”

Donna nodded against his shoulder. Pulling back, she cocked an eyebrow at Lance. “Did she leave bruises?”

“On Ashley?” Lance clarified. “I’m assuming she did.”

“Good,” Donna replied.

~ * ~ * ~

**_OCTOBER 2005 – HALLOWEEN_ ** _**WEEKEND**_

“You got any plans for Halloween?” Ruby asked as she came behind the café counter, sporting a short skirt and heels with a wig that resembled a ‘Rachel’ hair cut from FRIENDS.

“Oh, yeah!” Felicity gushed as the girl wrapped a patterned apron around her waist.

“Really?” Ruby asked in disbelief. “No matter how Goth you look, I didn’t peg you as a Halloween Reveler. Hot date?”

“I plan on turning off all the lights in the house, curling up with a **_big_** bowl of Snickers bars and watching raunchy comedies. I have a long night of **_reveling_** ahead of me!”

Ruby snorted. “Well, enjoy. And if you run out of candy or just get bored out of your skull, you can always come down here and help me out!”

“Ha ha ha,” Felicity dead-panned. “I am getting out of here before Cameron tries to rope me into your little production. I had to promise to work Christmas morning **_and_** New Year’s Eve **_just_** to avoid this.” She waved her hand at the inside of the normally modern coffee café was turned into a space closely resembling Central Perk from the popular sitcom.

The girls said their goodbyes and Felicity walked out into the dying light of day. The street lamps were already casting an unearthly yellow along the sidewalks. Felicity pulled her light jacket a little tighter around her as she walked around the corner to where she parked her mother’s car. Since the days were getting shorter, Donna had insisted Felicity use her car to drive home from work instead of taking the city’s bus system. Felicity didn’t complain. Perched behind the wheel of the sedan, Felicity rolled down the windows halfway and turned up the radio full blast, Jewel pouring out into the crisp fall air.

Turning the car onto their street, Felicity slowed. She couldn’t stop the smile when she saw many of the children in the neighborhood were already out in force. It brought back memories of Halloweens spent in Vegas. Long nights of trick-or-treating up and down the strip which would end with her and her mother sprawled on the couch, piles of empty wrappers in their laps as they watched TV Land on the cable box. Turning down the volume on the stereo as she approached her house, Felicity changed her mind and decided she would hand out the Snickers instead of hoarding them all for herself. Her goodwill quickly left her when she spotted a familiar pricey car parked at the curb. Snarling, Felicity pulled into the driveway, resisting the urge to use the fender of her mom’s car to blemish his paint job.

Exiting the car and slamming the door a little harder than necessary, Felicity trudged up the sidewalk. She knew Lance was taking her mother to the stations annual Halloween party and she prayed Oliver and Laurel had somewhere to be themselves. It wasn’t like it was Valentine’s Day, Felicity scoffed inwardly. Although, for Laurel and Oliver it made sense that the day of the dead would be a perfect holiday to celebrate their relationship.

“I’m home!” She called as she stepped inside.

There was a clatter to her left. Felicity leaned over and looked into the living room. Pressing her lips together, she suppressed a laugh.

“Hi,” she greeted shortly.

At the sound of her voice, Oliver shot to his feet, his costume clanking loudly. He faced her and for some reason, a faint blush stained his cheeks. “Hey.”

Enjoying his obvious discomfort, Felicity perused his form leisurely. He wore tall black boots with a lip over his knee caps with his strong thighs encased in tight black leggings. A silvery colored sweater could be seen underneath a sheet of detailed armor covering his broad shoulders. The look was topped with a sword belt around his hips, sword sheathed in a pleather looking case.

“Sir Lancelot?” Felicity guessed with a chortle.

Oliver cleared his throat. “Romeo.”

“Romeo was far from a Knight, though. But, if the shoe fits…”

Oliver sensed the veiled insult. “It’s the Romeo from the movie. With that guy who was named after a painting.”

“Painter.”

“Huh?”

“Leonardo De Caprio. He’s named after Leonardo DaVinci. DaVinci was a _**painter**. _ Not a **_painting.”_**

“Whatever,” Oliver replied with a steely gaze. It didn’t affect Felicity. “He goes to costume party as a Knight or soldier… or whatever.”

Felicity nodded. “Your hair could use more gel but I guess you’d pass.”

“Thanks,” Oliver answered sarcastically.

“No problem!” Felicity said brightly, spinning and heading for the stairs. She met Lance and Donna tramping down. “Oh, jeez, what is on your head, Mom?”

Lance flashed Felicity a grin, leading her mother down who was sporting a flame red wig. Lance had his own hair slicked back and styled to look like Elvis. As they arrived at the bottom, Felicity reached forward to wipe off the remaining shoe polish he’d darkened his temples with.

“Hey, thanks, kiddo,” Lance said.

“Would hate for people to think Mom clocked you one,” Felicity replied. “Okay, so, the Tin Man is in the living room. What are you two supposed be?”

“Guess!” Donna cried jubilantly.

“Are you wearing fake eyelashes?” Felicity leaned forward to inspect her mother closely.

Donna gave an exasperated sigh. “Guess!”

“Umm, Elvis and a 1950’s Desperate Housewife?”

“Close!” Lance pulled his features into an expression of frustration. “Lucy! You got some ‘splainin’ to do!”

Donna’s mouth stretched and then opened wide, issuing forth a loud and whining, **_“Waaaah!”_**

For the first time since moving to Starling, Felicity felt a true laugh bubble up from her stomach. Holding her sides, she laughed merrily. Lance and Donna exchanged pleased looks, enjoying the sound of the melancholy teenager laughing like a child. A clank was heard and Felicity looked behind her to see Oliver step into the foyer, no doubt to see what all the hilarity was about. Felicity smiled at him and pointed at her parents. Oliver's own laugh fueled Felicity’s once more.

“What’s so funny?” A voice asked jovially.

With tears in her eyes, Felicity stood upright and saw Laurel standing just a few stairs up from them. The happiness seeped from Felicity as she watched her step-sister float gracefully down in a floor length dress of the most delicate material. The dress was sleeveless and gathered at her slim waist with a pair of iridescent angel wings attached at her back. Felicity didn't understand why there was a sudden flash of jealousy as Laurel joined Oliver in his knight attire and she wasn't sure she wanted to examine the reason behind it. Suddenly, standing between a pop culture version of Romeo and Juliet and a lovable Ricky and Lucy, Felicity felt very lonely and very out of place. Crossing her arms around herself, she became a small as she could.

"You two look precious!" Donna beamed. "Fancy party?"

Felicity glanced up and was startled to find Oliver's eyes riveted on her. Realizing he'd been caught staring, Oliver gave her a small smile and slid his eyes over to Laurel. Felicity felt her cheeks grow warm.

"We're going to meet up with some friends from school," Laurel replied vaguely.

Lance's face darkened. "Is Tommy Merlyn going to be among this group of friends you are meeting up with?"

Laurel's face was a cool mask of indifference. "You know, Daddy, I'm really not sure who all will show up."

Oliver was silent next to Laurel.

“Where is this party at?” Lance crossed over easily to hard-nosed Detective.

Laurel rolled her eyes. “May I remind you that I am an adult?”

“That is fine, young lady. But right now you are under my roof and –“

“Oh, please!” Laurel interrupted. “You let **_her_** walk around looking like a ghoul from a horror show and I can’t go to **_one_** Halloween party without getting some flack?”

“Now, there is an idea!” Lance crowed. “Why don’t you two take Felicity with you?”

Felicity and Laurel shrieked at the same time.

Lance nodded while Donna just looked on with a slack jaw. “I am sure there will lots of people there of the appropriate age. Felicity, you need to make some friends and this will be a nice time for Oliver and Laurel to introduce you around. A lot of their friends have younger brothers and sisters.”

“Wait a minute, pops!”

“Daddy, you can’t be serious!”

“Detective Lance, I really don’t think –“

“Now, Mr. Queen,” Lance started in response to Oliver who’d finally found his voice. “I know you wouldn’t be taking Laurel to a place where **_both_** my girls couldn’t go.”

Oliver cleared his throat, his jaw tight. “No, sir. I wouldn’t.”

“Then it’s settled,” Lance said, a crap-eating grin plastered on his face. “Felicity will just tag along with the two of you. And I trust you two will make sure she has some fun.”

Laurel crossed her arms, her and Felicity sharing looks that promised to kill the other. Lance choked back a laugh at the look of sheer terror on Oliver’s face.

“You better get going!” Lance exclaimed when no one moved. The two adults herded the grumbling girls out the door, their stoic escort walking a few feet ahead.

Lance and Donna stood at the open door and watched as Oliver made room in the back of his small sports car for Felicity as Laurel glowered from the front seat. Lance waved enthusiastically at Oliver who waved back uneasily before ducking into the vehicle.

“Quentin,” Donna finally spoke as they both watched Oliver pull away from the curb a little faster than necessary. “Was that really the best idea?”

“Why? You worried about Felicity?”

“A little. I mean, you’re worried about Laurel.”

“Exactly; which is why I sent Felicity.”

“You mean, my sixteen year is supposed to be chaperoning your nineteen year old daughter and her boyfriend?”

Lance nodded. “Those two won’t get away with a thing with Felicity along for the ride.”

~ * ~ * ~

“Okay, look,” Laurel snarled from the front seat, twisting to glare at Felicity in the cramped back. “You don’t want to be with us and I don’t want you to come along. So, why don’t you just tell us where we can drop you off and that will be the end of our association for tonight?”

Felicity’s mouth plopped open and she pressed a hand to her chest. “You mean, you **_don’t_** want me to go your oh-so-cool-and-secret-party?!”

“Cut the crap, Felicity,” Laurel spat. “Movies? Mall? **_The library?_   ** Just where do you spend the free time of your sad existence?”

“Oh, Laurel,” Felicity began with a sweet smile. “Actually, I have changed my mind. I **_do_** want to come to this shin-dig you are so keen to keep me from. I have better things to do with my time, something that does not apply to you and your boy-toy judging by your costumes, but now I am just curious.”

“You are such a brat!” Laurel sputtered.

“Laurel, come on. Just let it go,” Oliver whispered, keeping his eyes locked on the road in front of them. “Let’s just take her to the party. She’s a big girl; she can entertain herself.”

“That’s not the point, Ollie!” Laurel argued, not bothering to lower her voice. “She’s just doing this to be difficult.”

Oliver shrugged. “And you’re playing right into her hands.” Looking in the rearview mirror, Oliver watched Felicity. Like before, she sat curled into herself, arms crossed over her knees which were drawn up. A protective instinct unfurled inside him. He didn’t understand what it was about this girl and her sharp tongue that drew that reaction from him. Maybe it was because he recognized the pain she tried so hard to hide behind the stingy barbs and daggered glances. It was the same thing he tried to compensate for with his cavalier romances and his nonchalant attitude.

The party was being held in an abandoned warehouse that was located just off the docks in the Glades. It was not the most elite location but had lately become a very chic party district. As Oliver parked his car a couple of blocks over, he had a momentary moment of indecision. Bringing Felicity to this place didn’t seem right. She wouldn’t be the youngest party-goer, by any means, but she didn’t belong. Not because she wasn’t wealthy or wasn’t beautiful or whatever it was the crowd he ran with considered worthy, but because she seemed above all this.

Oliver paused, on the verge suggesting they turn around and just go back to the Masquerade Ball his parents were holding for the Queen Consolidated Board, but Laurel was already out of the car, Felicity pushing out from the seat behind her. When the two girls stood on the sidewalk facing away from each other, Oliver shook his head and exited the vehicle, too. Stepping foot on the sidewalk, Laurel took his arm and began barreling toward the music and the flashing lights. Glancing behind them, Oliver periodically checked to make sure Felicity was safely behind them. She was there each time, her eyes alert and taking in all the surroundings and strangely dressed people they passed.

“Seriously, Oliver,” Laurel sniffed from beside him. “You act like you **_want_** her along.”

“I just don’t need another reason for your father to dislike me, is all,” Oliver replied after once again swiveling his head to spot Felicity a few paces behind them. A shady looking fellow was following a few steps behind her. Oliver caught his eye and glowered. He took a relieved breath that it was enough to scare the guy off who was probably just out looking for a good time on Halloween.

The group finally arrived at the single door entrance at the back of the warehouse. Oliver rapped on the door with his knuckles. As if they were about to gain entrance to an underground club, a slot in the door opened and two black eyes looked out that were surrounded with white face paint. Oliver slipped a simple green colored business card through the door and soon, the door opened and they were ushered quickly inside. The music was deafening and Felicity squinted against the bright lights as strobes flashed and bodies writhed before her.

Not wanting to lose Oliver and Laurel in the crowd, she took a few hasty steps to catch up to the couple who were weaving through the crowd of other costumed partiers. Her eyes still adjusting, she bumped a waitress dressed like a mermaid, almost toppling the tray of complicated drinks she carried.

“Hey!” She screamed over the noise. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry!” Felicity yelled back. She turned back in the direction she had been headed only to find she was alone in a sea of unknown bodies.

She stopped, petrified of being in this crowd by herself. The lights were flashing to the beat of the music and people continued to brush against her, making the room overly warm and humid. She felt herself beginning to be moved along with a wave. Searching frantically, she felt a hand grab hers in a tight grip. Whipping around ready to fight off a drunk or fresh assailant, Felicity came face to face with Oliver. The relief she felt was evident on her face and she didn’t bother to hide it.

A wide grin split his face, releasing annoying butterflies from their cages in Felicity’s belly.

“Don’t worry, I got you!” He spoke loudly in her ear as he pulled her closer to him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to make sure she was pressed to his side as he pushed his way through the crowd.

The trek across the mammoth dance floor took them a few minutes, all of it spent in constant contact with Oliver’s body. Felicity was glad when a metal industrial stair case appeared before them and it was clear they were to climb it. Taking the steps gingerly, it led them to a second level. Oliver stepped in front of her, hitching his head to follow him. Now above the music and then psychedelic lights, Felicity could think more clearly. Leaning over the railing, she looked down upon the writhing mass of bodies below.

“What the hell am I doing here?” She asked indignantly.

Realizing she’d stopped behind him, Oliver turned around. Joining her at the railing, he looked below, as well. “It’s a little overwhelming,” he supplied.

Felicity nodded slowly. “Contrary to my punk-chick appearance, your fair Juliet is right. The library would have been a better choice for tonight. They have extended hours on Saturdays.” Felicity pressed her lips together and sucked in her cheeks. “Yep, I know they have extended hours on Saturdays. I am **_that_** girl.”

“And what girl is that?” Oliver asked. The question surprised him. It was full of genuine curiosity. He regarded her profile in the dim light. She turned her face, looking at him with the bewilderment he was feeling. Just a few doors away was a small party waiting, full of the elite young of Starling City and all sorts of ways to lose oneself in enjoyment. Laurel was there, too. And he just wanted to stay here with this strange girl; longing for each new feeling she inspired within him.              

Her eyes glittering from the lights below, Felicity giggled. “Not a rave girl, that’s for sure!”

“You want me to take you home?” There was a bit of disappointment in Oliver’s voice.

With a soft smile, Felicity shook her head. Then the smile turned mischievous. “I mean, I haven’t filled my ‘Annoying Laurel’ quota just yet.”

He knew he should care more about this girl upsetting his girlfriend, making it her mission to be a thorn in Laurel’s side, but Oliver couldn’t muster up the ire. Instead, he took her hand; clasped it and tried to ignore the way his heart raced. Continuing down the hall, he stopped in front of a pair of double doors. Opening one, he allowed Felicity in first.

“Oh, darn, he found you.” Laurel was the first to greet them. Her eyes immediately zoned on their joined hands and her cheeks mottled. Felicity let go and stepped away. She glanced around the room. The room was large and was dim like the mosh pit below, but the lights were a steady cool blue. The music, too, was a hip dance beat but it didn’t make her ears bleed. There were small groups everywhere but more sporadically spaced out than below. Along one wall was a decadent spread of food and Laurel was holding a glass of champagne.

Felicity cocked a brow and clucked. “What would Daddy say?”

“Don’t you dare –“

“Tommy!” Oliver called when he saw the tip of his friend’s wizard hat above the crowd.

“Hey!” Tommy replied, joining them in an elaborate wizard costume. “Hi, Felicity.”

“Hi, Tommy,” Felicity greeted cheerfully. “Should I even bother guessing?”

“I would be heart-broken if you didn’t!”

Felicity laughed.

“You two know each other?” Oliver questioned; Laurel, too, mirroring his perplexed expression.

“Tommy is one of my regulars at the café. And my best tipper, which means he’s my favorite,” Felicity teased.

Oliver sent a piercing gaze at Tommy as he tilted back his glass and took a swallow of champagne, hiding a big grin. The fact that Tommy was on friendly terms with Felicity stuck in his craw for some unknown reason and Oliver was content to leave it there. It didn’t matter. Tommy was at Grind & Jolt nearly every day. Everyone liked Tommy. It still bothered Oliver.

Oliver reached over and knocked the tall, pointed Wizard’s hat from his friend’s head. “Are you ever going to get tired of this costume?” His voice was grumpy.

Tommy sniffed, jamming the hat back on his head. “No. I was made to be Merlin the Wizard.” He illuminated the space with a beatific smile. As he bowed theatrically, an exotic looking young woman joined the group.

“McKenna,” Laurel nodded.

“Laurel,” the young woman replied.

The greeting was frosty and Felicity raised her eyebrows. She wondered if there was anyone in this room that actually liked each other. What was the point of this party if no one was friends? To be seen, obviously, she answered herself. She rolled her eyes. This was definitely a waste of her time.

“Ah, let me introduce my lovely escort, the Lady Guinevere.” Tommy made quick introductions.

The group made stilted conversation, the air between Laurel and McKenna charged with animosity. Felicity excused herself, breathing a sigh of relief to be away from Oliver and his band of idiots. While Felicity truly liked Tommy, she found this lifestyle that he operated in exhausting. And she was tired of watching Laurel and McKenna shoot each other daggers while Tommy and Oliver attempted to make polite conversation. As her stomach rumbled, she decided her destination would be the food table covered with everything from lollipops and chocolate to spare rib and shrimp cocktails.

The food table was situated closer to the stage the disc jockey was stationed at. The music of this set had changed from a fast tempo to a rhythmic, almost primal beat. Snatching a surprisingly heavy shrimp cocktail glass, Felicity leaned against the wall, munching on her treat as she took in the myriad of elaborate costumes. Finishing the snack, Felicity wandered around, looking for a place to dispose of the glass. She ended up on the other side of the large room, just on the edge of a secluded alcove where many couples were enjoying the comfortable couches and deep arm chairs.

Averting her eyes, Felicity tried not to stare at the overt display of affections. All she could see was some very cinematic kissing taking place, but she didn’t know what lurked farther beyond the shadows. Clutching her glass, she looked around for a more inconspicuous spot to hide and watch until it was time to leave; which she hoped was soon.

“Hi.”

Looking to the side, Felicity saw a boy she knew from her computer technology class. “Hi,” she replied politely.

He was dressed like a football player, holding his helmet under an arm. He name was Connor or Carter or Cooper; she couldn’t remember but she always enjoyed watching him from across the class. She liked the way his hair fell across his forehead and his intense stare as he worked on cloaking patterns.

“Felicity, right?” He asked with a smirk.

Felicity nodded, her stomach tumbling as she realized he knew her name.

He stuck his hand out. “I’m Cooper.”

“Nice to meet you,” Felicity replied almost shyly.

The two were silent for a moment.

“Some party, huh?” He finally ventured.

Felicity nodded.

“Did you come with anybody?”

“My step-sister and her boyfriend.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re Laurel’s sister.”

“By marriage. There is **_no_** blood relation there,” Felicity stressed.

“Yeah,” Cooper chuckled. “I’ve heard she’s a real bitch.”

Felicity flinched. It was one thing for her to say it, but hearing it so bluntly from a complete stranger offended her a little.

“How do you know Laurel?” Felicity fished. She wasn’t even sure about his name before, how did he know Laurel? How did he know their connection?

“Oh… Everyone knows Quentin Lance now from his work on the Dollmaker Murders,” Cooper answered easily.

“Oh.”

“You wanna dance?” Cooper asked.

“Okay, yeah, sure,” Felicity relented with a small smile.

Returning her smile, Cooper laid down his helmet on the ground and then took her shrimp glass she was still holding and sat it right next to the helmet. He led Felicity out onto the dance floor, pulling her against him intimately. The music was a faster pace but Felicity liked the slow way Cooper moved them around the dancefloor.

For the remainder of the night, Felicity and Cooper were not far from the other. If they weren’t dancing, they were lounging against a wall, chatting quietly. Every so often, Felicity would catch a glimpse of Laurel and Oliver or Tommy and his date, McKenna. They didn’t speak to her and she didn’t care if they acknowledged her presence; in fact, she preferred it that way. She could almost forget that she was in a city she hated and shared breathing space with a girl she despised every other weekend. Tonight, she was just a girl having fun with a cute boy who seemed to like her, too. As Cooper threw his head back and laughed at something she said, Felicity decided maybe Starling wasn’t so bad.

Late into the night, Cooper led Felicity onto the dance floor again. As his hands settled on the bare skin of midriff exposed by her jagged shirt and low-slung camo pants, Felicity stiffened when his hands slid inside the waistband of her bottoms, pressing against her lower back. Ignoring her unease, Felicity settled into the circle of his arms and tried to enjoy the gentle movement of their bodies. All she could think of was the placement of his hands and the dirty feeling she felt crawling along her skin.

When the music ended, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed back, looking up into his face.

“Thanks for tonight, but I better make sure my ride hasn’t left,” she excused herself. Her warning flares were igniting in her mind.

Cooper didn’t release her. Instead, he leered over her short frame. “I can give you a lift.” He leaned and touched his lips to her ear, causing Felicity to shiver in disgust. “I know you’ve given me one.”

“What is your problem?!” Felicity exclaimed in confusion as the music started again.

“Don’t act so coy, Felicity,” Cooper sneered, his fingers digging into her skin. “I’ve heard the things going around school. You really going to act like you don’t give it up to any guy who asks? What do you think tonight was all about?”

Felicity fought her way away from him. “Go to hell, dickhead!”

His laughter ringing in her ears, she stormed away; pushing through oblivious people who grumbled in her wake. She hit another wall in the dark space. She pressed her forehead to the cool cement. Feeling as if she was in a bad teenage movie, she took deep, steadying breaths.

“Did you not like my little gift?”

Felicity’s jaw clenched. The last thing she needed tonight was to deal with Ashley. Straightening her shoulders, she turned to face the other girl. The blood in her veins completely congealed and she felt light-headed. Felicity clutched the wall for support, squinting to see through the instant tears in her eyes.

Standing a few feet from her was Ashley dressed in a cheerleader uniform, her arm linked through the arm of a football player; the football player Felicity had just sent to hell. Her blood ran cold when she realized Cooper had never been interested in her; he’d simply been trying to humiliate her. It had been a few weeks since she’d grabbed Ashley’s wrist and Felicity had waited with bated breath for retaliation. When none came, Felicity had hoped Ashley had been too vapid to attempt anything. Now, standing here in front of her, Felicity felt her stomach try to heave up the shrimp she’d just eaten.

“I was just leaving,” Felicity mumbled, desperate to get away. She took a few steps away only to feel sharp nails dig into the skin of her arm. With a shocking strength, Ashley yanked her back.

“I don’t think so. You didn’t play my little game,” Ashley snarled, a mean glint in her eyes. “I haven’t forgotten your psycho moment in the hall.”

“What game? Was I supposed to fall for some pervert trying to feel me up and then you advertise it all over school?” Felicity pulled her arm forcefully from Ashley’s grip. “I said I was sorry about that. And I **_meant_** it.”

Ashley shook her head. “I run that school; **_no one_** makes me look like stupid.”

“Wow, you need some **_serious_** electro-shock therapy,” Felicity snapped. Uneasily, Felicity noticed she and Ashley had drawn a crowd. Darting her eyes around, Felicity licked her lips nervously. “Ashley, **_please_** _,_ can you just –“

“I’m sorry,” Ashley cut in clearly. “If you’re going to beg for me not to tell the entire school how you tried to seduce my **_date_** , you need to act like you are sorry.”

The gathered crowd laughed. Felicity blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling.

“How did you even get in here, anyway?” Ashley continued; having hit her stride and found an audience. “Did you **_service_** the doorkeeper? Your mother teach you a few tricks of the trade?”

Felicity couldn’t stem the tears any longer. She felt them swell and then plop onto her cheeks, marking their way down slowly. She only hoped it was dark enough in the room to hide them.

There was a commotion amongst the tight ring of the crowd; to her right, Felicity saw a few people being shouldered aside. Suppressing a glad shout she watched Oliver’s tall form, followed by Tommy, push their way into the circle. Their mere presence caused the dynamic of the group to change. If Felicity hadn’t been so grateful, she would have scoffed at the god-like aura they emitted around the younger teenagers.

“What’s going on here?” Tommy asked suspiciously.

“None of your business, Wizard,” Cooper groused bravely, expanding his chest.

Tommy cocked an eyebrow at him. “I know you don’t know who I am. Otherwise, you wouldn’t talk to me like that, meathead. And I am not just any wizard. I am Merlin.”

Cooper glared at Tommy but closed his mouth.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked her quietly, running a comforting hand along her arm.

Felicity nodded. She stilled when Oliver brought up a hand and wiped one of her tears away, his jaw clenching as he did so.

“Hmmm, looks like someone should tell Laurel Lance that it’s not just her father that has a weakness for white trash,” Ashley spat; the only one who seemed to be unaffected by Oliver and Tommy’s presence.

“You want to repeat that?” Oliver’s voice was quiet but it was hard and Felicity saw Ashley shrivel slightly. Ashley and Oliver held each other’s gaze in a power of wills until Ashley finally glanced away. When it was clear Ashley was not going to say anything else, Oliver ordered, “Let’s go.”

Oliver left the circle followed Tommy, who made a hole for Felicity. As Felicity made to follow, Ashley, determined to have the final word, shrieked:

“Should have come dressed like a stripper, Smoak. You could have borrowed your mom’s spiked heels!”

“Bite me,” Felicity threw over her shoulder.

 ** _“Blow_** me? By all means,” Cooper sneered as she passed, grabbing her arm and pulling her against him.

Felicity yelped as she collided with Cooper’s bulky costume. She raised her hand to slap him when she felt him being ripped away from her. Stumbling back, her eyes widened as she saw Cooper struggling to release the iron grip of Oliver Queen from the collar of the jersey he wore.

“What did you say to her?” Oliver snarled, looming over the shorter boy, his nose almost touching Cooper’s.

“N-nothing, dude,” Cooper stuttered, his face pale with fright.

“Oliver, what are you doing?!” Laurel screamed as she finally arrived into the fray.

“Are you sure?” Oliver tightened his grip, causing the shirt to tighten around Cooper’s neck.

“Oliver, let him go.” Tommy strove for calm when Cooper began to cough.

“Apologize.”

“W-what?”

“Apologize to her,” Oliver repeated with gritted teeth.

Cooper’s frantic eyes found Felicity’s. “S-sorry.”

It was a tense moment before Oliver’s grip loosened. Cooper sucked in a mouthful of air as he tore his shirt from Oliver’s hand and jerked away.

The entire room was silent, even the music had stopped its pounding beat. Everyone stared at Felicity or Oliver who were staring at each other. Oliver was breathing like he’d a run a mile and Felicity couldn’t seem to take in any oxygen. A slight movement from Oliver caused Felicity to startle. She felt the shrimp heave in her belly.

“I have to get out of here,” she whispered, barreling through some of the bystanders.

“Felicity –“ Oliver called as she ran by him.

“What the hell just happened here?” Laurel demanded as she grabbed his sleeve.

Tommy began pushing people around and yelled at the DJ to start the music. “Show is over! Get a life!” He yelled.

“Are you going to go after her?” Oliver snapped at Laurel.

Laurel’s jaw fell open. “Why would I? Do you see the trouble she caused?”

 ** _“She_** caused?” Oliver said in disbelief. He shrugged off Laurel’s hand. “Did you not see him grab her?”

“Oh, please!” Laurel huffed, crossing her arms.

“She looked sick. Someone should really go after her,” McKenna said with concern earning a glare from Laurel.

Oliver shook his head. “I’ll go. I’m the one who embarrassed her.”

“And just what am I supposed to do?” Laurel questioned angrily.

Oliver didn’t even look back as he walked off.

**_“Oliver!”_ **

Tommy would give her a ride home. Oliver needed to find Felicity. He was shaken by what he did. He’d never laid a hand on anyone other than in the Martial Art classes his father had put him through and he’d never been any good at it. The minute he looked behind him and saw the gangly boy pull Felicity back, anger like he’d never known filled him and he didn’t know what was happening until it was too late.

As Oliver searched the crowd, he didn’t know what he was going to do when he found her. All he knew is that Felicity had somehow gotten under his skin and he hadn’t been able to shake the thought of her from his brain since the first day he saw her in the café. And he was getting close to doing something he would surely regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... That was pretty ugly. I felt HORRIBLE even doing it to her, but I had my reasons!! This in the end of torturing Felicity. I PROMISE. That was it. We are done. No more! Okay... There is more torture coming but NOT LIKE THAT. Anyway, Oliver IS going to find her and talk to her. I think it is important y'all know that. Its not ending this way... Just right now. :-D There is hope!! And we had some Daddy Lance and Felicity bonding! Not all of this chapter was bad!! I am reaching, I know, haha! 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed it! I so apologize to ALL of us for I did to that poor girl, but the point is, NOW its open the door for Oliver to be the great guy we all know he is! So, there ya go!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry y'all had to wait to so long again! I do hope you enjoy chapter 4!!

_**CHAPTER**_ **_FOUR_**

Pushing frantically through the massive crowd, Felicity finally made it to an outside door. Hitting it with all the force of her slender body, the door swung open violently. She raced out into the cool night air, dragging long gulps of fresh oxygen into her lungs. Closing her eyes and clenching her teeth, Felicity fought the wave of sickness she felt spinning in her belly. As tears flooded her eyes, she stumbled along the railing and down a ramp. She followed the sound of lapping water until her feet hit a beach of many small pebbles. Taking a few more steps, she sank down to the ground, tucking her legs under her Indian style. She was a few feet from the water’s edge. The moonlight reflecting off the water blurred as she continued to cry. Felicity didn’t know what she was more upset about; her ridiculous inferiority complex, the fact she couldn’t defend herself or that she was sitting here bawling over it all when not long ago it would have slipped right off her shoulders. Whatever it was, pinpointing it wouldn’t stop the tears so she just continued to cry. Maybe afterward, she’d feel like facing her world.

Pulling her knees up, Felicity rested her elbows on them and placed her forehead on her forearms, letting small sobs escape quietly into the night. Moments later, it was this position Oliver found her in. He’d heard the sound of her crying softly and followed it swiftly. He stood silently behind her, watching her shoulders shake gently. Her dark hair spilled down her back, looking like a dark shade of blue. Oliver was hesitant now that he was here. He wasn’t good at comforting people. The only success he’d ever had was with his ten year old sister when she’d broken her tea set. He went out and bought her a new one. He didn’t think a new tea set would dry Felicity’s tears. Taking a deep breath, he approached her, his feet making a slight crunching noise. Felicity jerked around with a gasp of surprise, her eyes wide and glistening as they stared at him. He swallowed. There was something about her eyes when she looked at him. She didn’t flutter her eyelashes; she didn’t glance sideways and then back at him coyly. She pinned him with an open stare and he felt she could see beyond all his layers and pretenses. He could hide nothing from her no matter how hard he tried. Clearing his throat, he advanced closer, bending and taking a seat next to her on the lumpy shore.

Lacing his hands between his knees, Oliver and Felicity were silent as they both looked back to the calm sea. He waited a few moments before her ventured tentatively, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, I didn’t mean to. I just-“

“You can save your fake sympathy, Oliver,” Felicity sniffled with hostility. “I still have no intention of telling Laurel you hit on her **_kid_** step-sister so just leave me the hell alone, okay?” She didn’t need Oliver on some misplaced hero’s duty trying to make her feel better. She felt pretty crappy and she wanted it that way.

“I’m not here because of that,” Oliver replied patiently. He didn’t understand why he was here putting in the effort with a girl who clearly didn’t want his presence but he felt driven towards her.

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Then why are you here?” She demanded thickly with a stuffed nose.

Oliver met her gaze. “Because you look like you could use a friend.”

“How would you know what I need?” She scoffed, looking back at the open water.

“Because I know what it’s like to wish you had a different life,” Oliver told her honestly.

“Oh, please!” Felicity exclaimed startling Oliver as she pushed to her feet and stomped off before whirling back to face him. He stared up at her with furrowed brows.   “Your silver spoon is so far in your mouth I'm surprised you don't choke on it!”

“Hey!” Oliver yelled back, storming to his feet, as well.

“Besides, what makes you think I even want you to be my friend?” She continued to yell over him.

“I don’t see anyone else lining up for the job! Do you?!”

Felicity glared at him until something seemed to break inside her. Her shoulders slumped once more. Oliver stepped forward instantly, taking Felicity in his arms and pulling her against his chest. In his rush after Felicity, Oliver had paused momentarily to divest of the silly play-armor he’d been wearing so he could move more easily through the throng of people. Now, as Felicity’s cheek came to rest against the hard plane of his chest, all she felt was the softness of the expensive sweater he wore and the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric. She took the comfort he gave willingly, letting her tears fall and soak into the cashmere.

“I just want to go home,” Felicity brokenly mumbled.

“I can take you home,” Oliver whispered, his lips pressed into her hair as he held her tightly.

Felicity shook her head. “No, not that home. **_My_** home.”

“Vegas,” Oliver answered knowingly.

Pulling back, Felicity looked up at him with something close to astonishment at his perception. She nodded. She stepped away and wiped her eyes, giving her back to him. She took a few steps and paused, resuming her stride as Oliver began walking beside her. They walked along the rocky shoreline slowly and quietly.

“How long have those two been bothering you?” Oliver finally asked.

Felicity shrugged. “Ashley and I just rub each other wrong, I guess. If you talk to Lance, he’ll say it was his entire fault. Some bad blood between him and Mr. Rothschild that is filtering down to me and Ashley. I say Ashley is just a bitch. I don’t meet her requirements for attending such a prestigious school. I don’t have the right **_breeding.”_**

“You’re breeding is fine,” Oliver spat as they walked along. “If Ashley knew anything about her own mother, she wouldn’t be so quick to judge others.”

“Maybe that is the problem,” Felicity replied. “She tries so hard to be something she is not.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, what we hate the most in others is what we hate the most about ourselves. Maybe I remind Ashley of her more than humble beginnings.”

“It’s not excuse for her to treat people the way she does,” Oliver said. “To treat you the way she treated you.”

Felicity looked over at him. She shrugged again. “I’m kinda used to it.”

“Was it like this in Vegas?”

She shook her head.

“Was it worse?”

Felicity threw her head back and laughed. “In Vegas, most of us had a parent or both in the industry. Dealers, bouncers, dancers; my best friend’s dad was a shark. It was what it was. It was easier to deal with, though. There were still tiers, but… No one thought my mom was a stripper in Vegas.” Felicity’s voice was hard as she finished; anger apparent in every word and gesture.

“What was she?” Oliver questioned hesitantly. He didn’t know much about Donna’s past from Vegas. He knew what Laurel had told him, which he really didn’t believe. What he did know of Donna, he liked. She seemed like a genuinely caring and sweet person.

“Besides a stripper?” Felicity snapped. She bit her lips. “Sorry, habit. She was a cocktail waitress. Or, lounge hostess. There was no stripping. No clothes, or what we loosely refer to as clothes, came off. Yes, my mom relied on her looks to get tips that she used to pay the bills, but she drew the line at using her body. Still, those tiers I mentioned? Cocktail waitresses were toward the bottom.”

“Why do the kids at your school think she was one?”

“I don’t know,” Felicity sighed. “It’s not like mom goes parading around in her mini skirt and push-up bra anymore. She wants nothing more than for us to be the Brady Bunch. She doesn’t want our past screwing up our new perfect lives here.”

“Yeah, well, perfection is hard to hold on to. And it gets wearing after a while. You’re better off just making peace with the past instead of hiding it,” Oliver advised wisely.

“And just what do **_you_** have to make peace with?” Felicity asked with a snort.

“My life isn’t as smooth as you would like to think it is,” Oliver replied easily. “As I like to make it out to be, either,” he muttered.

“Yeah, the god-like awe you inspired back there must be **_torture.”_**

It was Oliver’s turn to laugh. “That is because they are stupid kids. Stupid kids who actually envy that silver spoon you were talking about earlier. Maybe one of them would like to choke on it for a while. I’ve had my fill.”

“Sorry, Oliver, but I really have trouble seeing you as one of the ‘regular people’. I mean, with your fancy sports car and your resume of Ivy League schools you’ve gotten into and then kicked out of. You do know some people would **_kill_** to go to just **_one_** of those schools, right?”

Oliver shook his head. “It’s not about being regular, Felicity,” Oliver told her. “It’s about people perceiving my life a certain way. You just summed it up. You think because of the money and my name, my life should be golden, but it’s not. And it’s exhausting trying to keep up the act.”  

“So don’t,” Felicity said simply.    

“What?” Oliver asked in surprise.

“Don’t,” Felicity repeated. “Don’t act a certain way. Be yourself. Just because you have the money to, doesn’t mean you have to be an arrogant asshole.”

“That is a really insulting piece of advice,” Oliver responded.

“But it’s not,” Felicity continued. “The guy that hit on me in the coffee shop? He was an ass. The guy who followed me out here tonight? He’s actually pretty decent.”

“Do I get that in writing?”

“No. I have the right to change my mind for the first 90 days.”

A comfortable silence fell as Oliver and Felicity continued to stroll along the beach. The night was cool and there was a slight breeze. It hit Felicity and she couldn’t stop the shiver that caused her body to convulse.

“You wanna go back?” Oliver suggested, stuffing his hands in his pockets against the chill.

Felicity stopped and looked behind them, the lights a good distance off. She looked back at Oliver. “If you need to go, it’s okay. I’m sure Laurel is ready to go –“

“No,” Oliver said quickly. “I mean, Tommy took her home. I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Felicity smiled shyly and began walking again.

Seeing her shiver again, Oliver reached out and brushed her arm. “Here.” Oliver grabbed the hem of his sweater and pulled it up and over his head, handing it over to her.

Reaching out, Felicity took the sweater from him, her fingers brushing his. There was hot tingle where their skin touched.

“Thanks.” Felicity’s voice trembled. The sweater was large and as she found the bottom, it almost touched the wet ground.

“Oh, here, let me help.” Oliver took neck of the sweater and placed it over Felicity’s head, pulling it down until it settled around her neck. “Better?”

Felicity nodded, a blush warming her cheeks. The hem hung below her hips and the sleeves swallowed her hands but it was warm from Oliver’s skin. She wrapped her arms around herself, bringing in the warmth around her but also the smell. It smelt of sandalwood and the salty sea. She wondered if it was cologne or if it was Oliver.

“Better,” she said.

They began walking again, Felicity sneaking glances every so often at Oliver. Giving her his sweater left him in just a thin, white under tee and those ridiculous pants and boots. His hair, which had lost some of the gel form, ruffled as the breeze caught it. It was little longer than Felicity liked, but it gave him a sweet, boyish look. She wondered what it would be like to brush it out of his eyes and away from his face.

“So… That Cooper creep,” Oliver began. “Did you know him?”

“I’d seen him around school. We’re in a tech class together, but no. Tonight was the first time I’d met him.”

Oliver nodded. “Because you two seemed pretty familiar.”

Felicity shook her head. “No, but it doesn’t matter. Ashley put him up to it.”

“It didn’t look like he needed much convincing at some points,” Oliver commented darkly.

“Were you **_spying_** on me?”

“What? No,” Oliver rushed. “Just from what I saw you both looked close.”

Felicity lifted her eyebrows.

“I **_might_** have kept an eye on you,” Oliver relented. “Those parties can be a little wild and I promised your parents you’d be safe.”

With a smirk, Felicity nodded, eyeing Oliver shrewdly. A few more moments passed. It was Felicity who broke the silence this time.

“Parties like that, is that part of the image?”

“What image?” Oliver asked, reaching out absently to steady Felicity as she stepped over a large piece of driftwood with a hand on her back.

“Yours; the one you put on to look like a carefree playboy.”

“Oh, I guess,” Oliver replied, matching Felicity’s leisurely stride. “I’ve been going to them so long that it’s just a routine. You go, you see people, they see you, and you leave. It’s really pointless.”

“Then why go?”

“What do you mean?”

Felicity tucked her arms further into Oliver’s sweater. “Why go to these parties if they’re pointless? Seems to me there are better things you can do with your time.”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Oliver mused. “It’s habit now.”

“Maybe it’s time for some new habits,” Felicity suggested.

“I’m not sure if I am ready for that,” Oliver chuckled. “I first need to learn how to be something other than an arrogant asshole.”

“Well, if tonight is any indicator, you’re on the right track,” Felicity observed with a smile. “Maybe you could give some tips to your Ice Queen.”

“Laurel is not so bad,” Oliver replied.

“Could have fooled me,” Felicity muttered.

“She puts up with me. That should earn her some points,” Oliver said, more to himself than her.

“Has she always been like that or was it after her mother died?”

Oliver wasn’t sure his girlfriend was an appropriate topic to discuss with Felicity, especially with the way he was feeling but then he decided that was probably the best reason to discuss Laurel.

“Laurel has always been a stickler for justice. I think it has to do with her dad. When her mom died, it really shook her. I don’t think she saw any justice left in the world.”

“How did she die?” Felicity asked.

“Cancer,” Oliver answered. “They didn’t catch it in time. She was in perfect health until the day she tripped over a kitchen chair. She twisted her ankle pretty badly and had to have an x-ray. The doctor found some weird shadows. It was a rare form of aggressive bone cancer. Six months later she was gone. She and Laurel were best friends.”

Felicity blinked away tears. She couldn’t imagine. And she’d never stopped to ask. As much as she butted heads with her mother, her heart hurt to think of losing her. Donna was all Felicity had left.

“After Dinah died, Lance lost himself in his job for a while. There were some nights he didn’t come home. For a couple of months, it was like Laurel had lost both her parents,” Oliver finished. “In fact, I think he’s laughed more with your mom than he did in the years Dinah was gone.”

“I really wish you hadn’t have told me all that,” Felicity sighed.

“Why?”

Felicity stopped, looking at Oliver with a frustrated pout. “Because now I can’t hate her as much as I did.”

Oliver laughed softly, following Felicity’s lead as she turned back toward the direction they had come. The walk back was silent, but like the many silences before, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was nice to be with someone and not have to speak. As they approached the ramp that would lead back up to the main boardwalk, Felicity caught Oliver’s arm. With surprise at her touch, he stopped to gaze at her.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Oliver croaked. He was having a hard time getting sound out of his vocal chords. Felicity had cried most of her eye makeup off, leaving her face free and clear. She looked so innocent and vulnerable. The moonlight caught the prominent features of her face and Oliver longed to lean down and press his lips to hers.

“Thank you for coming after me. For…” Felicity trailed off. She swallowed and when she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. “For being a friend. You were right; I needed one.”

Oliver nodded. His watch began to chirp. He looked down and his eyes widened. “Holy sh*t! It’s 4:00 in the morning! Lance is _really_ going to kill me this time!”

“You have an alarm set on your watch for 4 AM? I don’t really see you as an early bird,” Felicity teased.

Oliver smirked, leading Felicity along the boardwalk back in the direction of his car. “The sprinklers start at 4 every morning.”

Felicity nodded. “Hard to sneak in with squeaky shoes.”

“And Hildy, the head of staff, would kill me for mucking up her pristine floors,” Oliver replied.

“Definitely don’t want to upset Hildy.”

“No, you do not cross Hildy.”

Oliver found the car and opened Felicity’s door. As he slid into the expensive interior, Felicity was buckling her seat belt.

“Do we have a story?” She asked.

Turning the key and bringing the engine purring to life, Oliver carefully backed out of the parallel parking spot he’d taken; rolling down the window to grab the parking ticket that he’d noticed was slipped beneath his wiper blade. Balling it up and tossing it in the bucket seats behind them, he glanced over at Felicity.

“Um… The truth?”

“And ruin your rep with Detective Lance?” Felicity gasped.

“Hey, if you don’t think he and your mom will ground you for coming home at 4 AM with a known felon, you tell them anything you’d like,” Oliver said.

“We’ll think of something,” Felicity informed him.

“You think; I’ll drive.”

Oliver gunned it, taking advantage of the almost empty streets to open up the horsepower and really let her run. He chuckled at the small yelp from Felicity and the way she gripped the door handle.

“But then again, if you kill us before we get there, no excuses will be needed!” Felicity exclaimed as he turned a corner on two wheels.

“Don’t worry,” Oliver responded, extending an open palm to her. “I’ve got you.”

Felicity couldn’t help but grin. Placing her hand in his, she held on for dear life as Oliver gunned the engine once more.

* * *

Laurel paced the floor of her room, looking out the window every few minutes. She’d tried to sleep, read, study for her exams and finally gave up to pad barefoot downstairs to watch some old sitcoms with Donna and her father. It was clear when Laurel returned without Oliver or Felicity, Donna and Lance were worried. Laurel explained what she knew and as the clock ticked by, the more agitated everyone became. Once more, Laurel retreated up to her bedroom. She didn’t want Donna or her dad to see how anxious she was. She told herself she had nothing to worry about; however, as she stared out the window and chewed on her thumbnail, she couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension. When she caught sight of Oliver’s car, the breath she’d been holding blew out of her lungs like the coastal winds of a hurricane.

Oliver and Felicity exited the vehicle, walking up the sidewalk to the house, their hands brushing occasionally. All windows on the bottom blazed with light, evidence of the unrest inside.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take off?” Felicity suggested as Oliver followed her up on the porch. “I think it might be best. I’m sure my mom would prefer not to have to wash blood off the cement at the crack of dawn.”

Oliver nodded, a little relieved. Now that he was here, the thought of facing a boiling Detective Lance for coming home with the wrong daughter and at 4 AM to boot was more than he felt he could handle.

“See you later, Felicity,” Oliver said, lifting his hand.

Felicity waved back only to call out when he was a few steps away. “Oliver! Your sweater!”

Oliver turned back to her, taking in her small form being engulfed in his fluffy cashmere. He shook his head.

“You keep it. You wear it better than I do. Night.”

Felicity couldn’t keep the large smile from blooming on her face. Gathering it closer, she stuck her hand in her pocket and fished out her house key. As she stuck the key in the lock, the door flew open, revealing her mom and her step-father, matching glares on their faces.

“Hi, guys. Still up?” Felicity greeted sheepishly.

“And just where do you think you are going?” Lance yelled as he squeezed past Felicity to catch Oliver before he pulled away.

“Mom, it wasn’t Oliver’s fault! Do something! Please!” Felicity begged.

Donna stood with crossed arms, her face hard with anger. “Felicity, that boy –“

Felicity and Donna looked up as a screech was heard. Lance stood at the end of the sidewalk, shaking his head as Oliver’s taillights faded down the street.

“I promise it wasn’t his fault, it was mine,” Felicity tried explaining again as Lance retraced his steps back to her and Donna.

“Then you have some serious explaining to do, young lady,” Lance growled at her. “Let’s go inside.” He herded them inside and shut the door.

“You have pulled your share of stunts in the past, but this is ridiculous!” Donna exclaimed. “You had us both worried sick!”

“Look, I’m sorry, it was all my fault,” Felicity began again, looking from both Donna to Lance. “I had some trouble with some kids from school and I ran out. Oliver came looking for me. I wasn’t ready to come back, so he stayed with me until I wanted to come home. That is all.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Lance broke in. “Let’s go and sit down and you can start from the beginning, ‘kay?”

* * *

Felicity told Donna and Quentin everything, leaving nothing out, as they sat around the dining table; two cups of hardly touched coffee and a tall glass of half-drunk water in front of them. Felicity watched her mother closely as she relived the comments and the barbs. Her mother didn’t flinch; she only got two spots of bright color high on her cheeks.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” Felicity apologized again.

“Oh, honey, you have nothing to be sorry for!” Donna exclaimed as she reached over and hugged Felicity tightly with one arm. She laid her blonde head against Felicity’s dark one. “Unless, you’re apologizing for staying out until four in the morning and not calling and for that, you have some serious groveling to do.”

“Groveling, check,” Felicity nodded. “Got it. But, can it start tomorrow? I’m **_really_** tired.”

Lance pushed himself up from the dining table. “It’s a little after six. If anyone is getting any sleep, we’d better be going to bed now.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Donna confirmed. “Good night, honey. Get some sleep.”

Felicity hugged her mother, smiling as Donna pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Get some sleep, kiddo,” Lance said, patting Felicity on the shoulder.

“Listen, Quentin,” Felicity began before her parents had retreated to their bedroom. “I’m the one who told Oliver to take off. He um… He was going to stay and face your wrath, but I didn’t think the neighbors would appreciate a scene of disorderly conduct so early in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, next time, why don’t we let Oliver take his share of the beating, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Felicity replied.

“And speaking of Oliver, remind me to call him tomorrow and thank him,” Lance said begrudgingly. “There must be some truth to all the good things my daughter says about him, I guess.”

Felicity nodded again before heading up the stairs to her room, leaving Donna and Lance as they turned off all the downstairs lights and cleaned up the kitchen. The upstairs was dim as she tiptoed down the hall, not wanting to wake the other girl she shared the floor with every other weekend and holidays. Too late, Felicity caught the sliver of pale light shining underneath Laurel’s door. She steeled herself as she reached her own door, cringing when she heard her step-sister’s bedroom door open. Arranging her face into a mask of impassiveness, Felicity turned, looking at Laurel with guarded eyes.

“So…” Laurel began. “Did you enjoy my boyfriend?”

“It’s not what it looked like, Laurel,” Felicity answered in exhaustion. “Look, I am really tired. Can you play the passive-agressive girlfriend tomorrow after we’ve both has some sleep?”

“Felicity, wait.” Laurel stepped across the hall as Felicity opened her door. “Tommy told me about what those kids did to you. I… I’m sorry.”

Felicity turned around. “You are?”

“Well, yeah,” Laurel replied. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I know that I haven’t been very welcoming but… No one deserves that. Not even you. I wish Oliver had belted him one.”

“You do?” Felicity fought back a laugh.

Laurel pressed her lips together. “I said I wish he did; I’m glad he didn’t. Oliver isn’t known for his fighting skills.”

The two fell into an uncomfortable silence.

“Anyway, thanks, Laurel. I’m sure you’d like to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, you, too.” Laurel and Felicity shared an awkward smile as they both disappeared behind closed doors.

Laurel turned off the light and crawled into bed. She didn’t mention anything about noticing Felicity was still wearing Oliver’s sweater. Or the fact that her father was going to call him tomorrow and thank him for getting Felicity home safely. Turning over on her back, she blinked back tears. What was it about Felicity that the two most important men in her life seemed to prefer over her?

Before Laurel found herself in a full blown pity party, she rolled over again and began digging in the pile of clothes for the cordless phone she'd had in here since she was a teenager.

Falling back on her bed, Laurel dialed a familiar number and listened to it ring, waiting for an answer.

"Hullo?" The answer came groggily.

"Crap, Tommy, I'm sorry. I forgot how early it was."

There was a cough and some muttering. "Sh*t, Laurel, its after six. Have you been to bed at all?"

"No," Laurel answered honestly.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Tommy asked; his voice soothing as he heard the tears in hers.

"I'm just being stupid. Um, Oliver brought Felicity home around 4, so..."

"Is that what has you upset?"

"Should I be?"

"No! Why do you even ask?"

Laurel sighed. "Tommy, you and I both know what Oliver is like."

There was silence on the other end. "This sounds like a conversation you should be having with Oliver."

Laurel nodded, aware that Tommy couldn't see the gesture, still not speaking.

"Laurel, there is a reason Oliver keeps coming back to you."

"That is not a huge ego booster, Tommy. Sounds like I should have more self-respect."

"The heart loves who it loves, Laurel. There's nothing we can change about it. All we can do is hang on and hope for the best," Tommy resigned. "Even if it sometimes means that person will never know what it costs."

"Very wise, Merlyn. You better watch it. Advice on something other than stocks may become a regular thing for you."

Tommy laughed a hard, ironic laugh.

"Tommy, that person?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't give up on them, okay?" Laurel told him.

"What?"

"I'm sure she'll come around eventually. It’s pretty hard not to love you."

Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly. "I don't know about that, Laurel."

"You two looked cute together tonight."

"Who?"

"You and McKenna," Laurel said. "That is who you meant, right?"

"Oh! Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Laurel." Tommy let out a loud yawn. "I can barely keep my eyes open so I know you have to be nearing complete exhaustion."

"I'm still too wired to sleep. I may just study until I crash later this afternoon," Laurel said with a shrug.

"If you need a study buddy, you know where to find me."

After they hung up, Laurel tossed the phone once more back in a pile of clothes. She knew there was going to be no sleeping tonight. Her conversation with Tommy didn't make her feel any better about the weird, unspoken bond that Oliver and Felicity seemed to share; but it didn't make her feel worse about the connection she and Oliver had. Tommy had a point, even if she didn't care to admit it. She must give Oliver something he couldn't find elsewhere. Laurel knew Oliver had had some indiscretions, but she thought he was worth it.

Pushing herself off her bed, Laurel pushed that train of thought away. She'd had enough reality checks tonight. She turned on her desk lamp and opened a thick textbook, successfully losing herself in the language of the law on this try.

Across the hall, Felicity was also up. Try as she might she was not able to sleep despite how physically and mentally exhausted she was. Opening the window, she crawled quietly out onto the roof to sit and watch the sunrise on the eave of the house. She still wore the sweater, reluctant to take it off.

"It's not like a couple of hours changes anything," Felicity told herself sternly. "He's still that skeeze who hit on you at the coffee bar. Not only that, but he has a girlfriend! A girlfriend that he seems to cheat on. **_Repeatedly!"_** She finished in exasperation at herself, throwing up her hands.

"So he gave you his sweater? You were cold; he's not heartless. So he was willing to pummel that creep for you? He was raised to respect women! Somewhat… Still… None of that changes he fact that while he has some good qualities, they **_so_** don't outweigh the bad."

The sky was beginning to deepen to a breathtaking azure blue, reminding her of the eyes that seemed to see her like no one else had before.

"Yes, he does have incredibly gorgeous blue eyes," she continued to muse, elbow on her knee, and chin in her palm. "And a body you could probably climb like a tree... Get a hold of yourself, Felicity!"

She pushed the hair off her neck, stopping to press her nose to the fabric of the sweater.

"Who cares if he smells like a manly sunset?" She muttered dreamily.

"Okay!" She cried. "Here's what you are going to do!" She clapped her hands together, the sound meant to clear her mind. "You are going to wash this sweater and give it back to Oliver. And you are going to stop **_swooning_** like a 1950's teenage girl who’s found a Beatle!"

Felicity stood up, catching the side of her window to keep from falling.

"And you are **_definitely_** going to stop talking to yourself! Do you want people to think you are crazy?" Felicity shook her head.

Whispering, she growled. **_"And don't answer yourself, either!"_**


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, once again, must apologize. I never meant to have so much time in between updates. My mother was having some health issues and as her caretaker, I didn't have a lot of free time left. My mother is doing better, though she is still having some issues but we are getting them taken care of. I am having a little more free time now, so the first thing I wanted to do was update this. :) I hope I haven't lost too many readers in the wait!
> 
> Last update, I announced that I realized that I had put Starling in the wrong geographical location but that I was keeping it in California. Well, I have made the decision to move it to its rightful place in the Seattle, Washington area. Sorry about the confusion!! I just realized it was bothering my OCD and I better do it sooner rather than later. I will be going back and fixing my geographical blunder, but for those of you with eyes for details,just pretend it's been here all along. Its the only way we can keep our sanity!

_**CHAPTER FIVE** _

“Do you think they are cleaning or… you know… cleaning”?” Felicity parsed the word ‘cleaning’ with air-quotes.

“What?” Laurel asked with furrowed brows. She and Felicity walked along a cluttered grocery store aisle; Laurel pushing the grocery cart slowly while Felicity perused the numbered list her mother gave her. She spotted the can of French Fried Onions Donna had put on the list above a row of canned vegetables. Plucking off the shelf, Felicity tossed it in the cart as the girls continued their stroll.

“You know…” Felicity stressed. “Cleaning? They needed us to come to the store because they were too busy cleaning? It’s just going to be us for Thanksgiving. Who are they cleaning for?”

Laurel continued to stare at her like she was spouting nonsense. “What are you talking about?”

Felicity stopped the pushing of the cart with a foot and stared at Laurel from underneath serious brows. “It’s so obvious you don’t live there enough anymore to know what is going on. Mom and Pops always get me out of the house when they need some alone time by telling me to run an errand either one of them could easily do themselves. Cleaning is their code word for makin’ whoopee.”

“Shut up!” Laurel exclaimed, her eyes squinting in disgust. She gave the cart a forceful push, almost running over Felicity’s toe. Felicity’s laughed as Laurel bustled passed her.

“Come on, Laurel!” Felicity chortled as she caught up with the other girl who had turned a corner onto another aisle. “What do you think it’s like to live with them? I have to share this misery with someone else!”

“This might come as a shock to you, but I don’t normally entertain myself by contemplating the details of my father’s intimate relationship with other women,” Laurel said haughtily as she grabbed a few bags of dried stuffing and threw them in the cart with the other items that were to make up Thanksgiving dinner in a few days.

“Oh, so you were an Immaculate Conception? Like Jesus?” Felicity pointed out with a straight face.

“Can we just shop?” Laurel asked. “I agreed to go shopping with you; I didn’t agree to a failed bonding attempt over the sexual lives of our parents.”

“Gross! Who could bond over that?” Felicity recoiled.

“You are so immature,” Laurel sighed.

Felicity smiled.

They made trips up and down five more aisles in silence, negotiating their way around the myriad of shoppers also stocking up for the biggest feast of the year.

“Just need to pick out a turkey and we will be done,” Felicity said as she mentally checked things off the list. “Mom wants one between twenty and twenty-five pounds.”

“I think turkeys will be with the frozen food. That way,” Laurel pointed in a general direction and they set off in search of the final item. The store they were in was a maze of aisle split into different sections, or worlds, as the employees called them. Felicity and Laurel were just exiting the grain world when another woman, about their age, stepped into their path.

Felicity grabbed the cart and directed it to the side to avoid hitting her.

“Oh, sorry, excuse me-“ The woman caught sight of Laurel and stopped. “Well, hello.”

Felicity looked from the woman, a pretty and petite brunette who wore heavy make-up and tight leather pants with tall electric yellow heels, to Laurel who had gone red in the cheeks. The air was heavy with menace.

“Are there any women in this town who likes you?” Felicity whispered in Laurel’s direction.

Laurel ignored her. “Hello, Bella. In for the holiday?”

The Bella woman nodded, flipping her long hair over one shoulder, leveling dark eyes at Laurel. “I was hoping to visit a few friends while I was here, too.”

“I wouldn’t count on certain ones. They have previous engagements; other priorities that don’t include you anymore,” Laurel replied with an edge.

Bella nodded, her eyes narrowing as she took a few teetering steps closer towards Laurel who was clutching the grocery cart with white knuckles. Felicity saw Laurel’s throat contract as she swallowed. For all the bravado she was putting forth, Felicity could tell there was nothing but a frightened nervousness underneath.

“I heard you were still keeping Oliver on a very tight leash,” Bella said; her bright red lips caressing Oliver’s name with in a sensuous purr. She stepped even closer and Felicity watched with alert eyes, not entirely sure what would happen next.

“What I do with Oliver is none of your business,” Laurel hissed.

“Maybe you’re just not woman enough to handle that much of a man,” Bella smirked. “If you were, maybe he wouldn’t have to look elsewhere for others to satisfy his needs.”

“And I don’t think your face could handle that much of my fist but I’m willing to try,” Felicity inserted as she stepped in between Laurel and Bella, who were only a foot apart. “Are you?” She lifted a closed fist under Bella’s nose.

Bella scoffed. “Oh, please.” Felicity could see the fear in her eyes, though.

“Don’t believe me?” Felicity asked with a tilt of her head. “I have a record at school for getting physically violent. I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you.”

Bella glared toward Laurel and then backed away. She kept silent unless Felicity made good on her threat to rearrange her face. When she was gone, Felicity lowered her fist and looked back at Laurel. Laurel was looking at her shoes and wiping at the tears sliding down her face but more continued to follow.

“So, turkeys, right?”

Laurel nodded, still not looking at Felicity. She grabbed the cart and began pushing it behind as Felicity walked on ahead.

Arriving at the freezer section of the store without any more incidents, Felicity began looking over the turkeys. Moving the ones on top over, she finally found the specified weight she was searching for.

“Here we go!” She cried, pulling a shrink wrapped bird from beneath the horde. “I think we found our winner. Thoughts?”

“Thank you!” Laurel exploded.

Felicity shrugged. “It’s just a turkey.”

“No,” Laurel sputtered and then gave a sigh of exasperation. She looked up at Felicity, finally making eye contact with the other girl since she’d come to Laurel's rescue. “I mean about earlier. Thank you for what you did. You didn’t have to and with the way I’ve treated you, you really had no reason to.”

Chewing her bottom lip, Felicity stood awkwardly holding a cold and frozen twenty-five pound Thanksgiving turkey. She didn’t know why she’d interfered either. She couldn’t care less about Laurel and Bella’s axe to grind concerning Oliver. They chose to get involved with a guy who had a less than stellar track record. However, Felicity realized the moment Bella mentioned Oliver, she too, had bristled. Ever since Halloween, her opinion of Oliver Queen had lost a bit of its edge. She wasn’t all that keen on their idea of hearing him maligned on the cereal aisle.

Lifting the turkey and setting in the grocery cart, Felicity was the one who avoided Laurel’s stare.

“If anyone is gonna make your life miserable, it’s going to be me,” she replied in a haughty tone. She was shocked when Laurel actually chuckled.

The girls made their way up to the check-out counters. The lines were long; it seemed most everyone had chosen this was a good day to gather the supplies for the Thanksgiving Holiday. Laurel and Felicity stood silently, looking at everything but each other.

Once again, Laurel surprised them both by speaking again.

“Oliver really is a good guy,” she said awkwardly.

“I’m sure,” Felicity replied, just as uncomfortable with this seemingly bonding moment.

“He’s just got some problems with commitment,” Laurel continued.

Felicity nodded. “Men, right?”

“I know he’s been with other girls,” Laurel said quietly. Felicity turned to face her. Laurel’s face was averted, examining a rack of magazines. Felicity inhaled sharply as she glanced at a local tabloid rag featuring none other than the blonde billionaire playboy himself, a glass filled with amber liquid aloft, looking devilish with two unknown women ensconced on either side of him in a booth.

“Laurel, don’t look at it.” Felicity reached out and turned the magazine over.

“It’s his parents,” Laurel told her. Felicity knew now she was talking for her own benefit. “He doesn’t know any different. He’s grown up watching his dad run around on his mother. He’s a good man underneath all his flaws. He’s warm and funny and caring. I mean, when it’s just the two of us, he’s wonderful.”

“You don’t have to explain things to me. It’s your life, your choices.”

“Dad doesn’t think so. If he could only see who Oliver is when no one is looking. I know all of you think I am pathetic for staying with him, but I think he's worth it. One of these days he's going to grow up and you'll all see.”  
Laurel’s tone was turning defensive. Felicity wracked her brain for a change of subject. She would die before admitting it, but she’d actually enjoyed Laurel’s company at the high points of the shopping trip.

“As long as you are happy, I think that it doesn’t matter,” Felicity said. “Now, are you prepared to fight to the death for homemade cranberry sauce? Because I can guarantee you my mom will just want to buy the can and slice it up on a plate.”

The girls began to unload their items onto the conveyor belt and for the first time, shared a genuine smile.

* ~ * ~ *

“Mister Queen?”

Oliver looked up to see one of the many servants his family employed standing before him with a silver tray, a pile of envelopes on its shining surface.

“The mail, as you requested.” The man bowed and set the tray before him on the side table and retreated from the parlor.

Oliver threw a glace around the room and then over his shoulder. Not seeing his mother around or hearing her, he quickly picked up the stack and rifled through it. In the middle of the stack, he found it: the official letter heralding his expulsion from the latest college. Setting the remainder of the post back on the tray, Oliver opened the letter, scanned its contents and then stood. He crossed to the mammoth fireplace on the other side of the room and gingerly tossed the paper into the cheery flames crackling before him. He grabbed the fire poker and stuffed the paper deeper into the heat, watching the edges blacken and curl; it was like a depressing glimpse of his future.

“Oliver, dear, I was not expecting you to be back so soon from your day out with Tommy.”

Oliver turned sharply to see his mother standing in an open doorway. The door was normally hidden by a tapestry and it led to the servants’ quarters in another wing of the house. Nor did he expect to see his mother exiting the passageway. Settling the fire poker back in its holder, Oliver shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking away from the fireplace.

“I had some reading I wanted to get caught up on.”

Moira Queen met her son in the middle of the room and they each sat stiltedly on matching revolution-era settees. She crossed her legs and leaned back against the couch. Oliver didn’t know what she’d been doing coming in from the servants’ entrance but she was impeccably coiffed as always. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle anywhere on her ice blue ensemble. There was something oddly comforting yet chilling about that for Oliver. Moira reached discreetly under the lip of a table and pressed a button. Somewhere, in the gargantuan mansion, a light was blinking, alerting a member of the house staff there was a need in the East Garden Room.

“Do you have any plans this evening or can we expect you for dinner?” Moira asked.

“Depends,” Oliver replied. “Are you and Dad having a silent dinner?”

“It wouldn’t be a silent dinner if you were there,” Moira retorted quietly as a middle-aged woman entered the room. Moira turned her attention to the woman. “Please bring in the afternoon tea service. Oliver, is there anything particular you would prefer?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Just the normal tea service, then.”

The woman bowed her head in a respectful gesture and retreated, leaving Oliver and Moira once again alone.

Moira settled back against the firm cushions, pinning her son with an interested stare. “Tell me, Oliver, are you enjoying this term?”

“It’s school,” Oliver said. “I am completely neutral toward it. I’m there. You and Dad should be happy.”

“We would be much happier if we knew you were actively applying yourself there as well as enjoying it,” Moira responded.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one,” Oliver sighed.

“Well, either way,” Moira broke off when a tray was wheeled in by yet another member of the house staff. Leaving the tray and retreating, Moira scooted forward and made herself a cup of tea, adding just a hint of cream and sugar. Holding the delicate china in her hand, she faced Oliver with a reserved smile.

“Your father and I are very proud, sweetheart. It seems like you are finally making a go of this school and we are so happy. I know we push you, but Oliver, you are capable of so much more than you know.” Moira reached out and patted Oliver’s knee.

“Thanks, mom,” Oliver muttered.

“And expect to hear the same speech from your father at dinner tonight. He’s just over the moon. He’s already talking about the two of you having offices right next to each other at the office,” she told him with a laugh.

Oliver closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. His parents couldn’t find a civil word to say to each other unless it was about him, it seemed. The prospect of dinner tonight felt like an anvil sitting right on his shoulders.

“He actually came home the other day with fabric swatches; wanted me to get started on decorating the office. It was the first time we’d spoken in –“ Moira stopped herself. She took a long sip of tea.

“So, tell me; what are your classes like? Do you like your professors?” She began again once she’d regained her composure.

“Seriously?” Oliver glared at his mother. “You’re gonna drop on me that you and Dad can’t talk about anything but me working at the company and then start asking about college like there is nothing wrong?”

Oliver stormed to his feet. “That’s a little too much pressure, mom.”

Setting the tea cup down and then smoothing the napkin in her lap, Moira clasped her hands over the white linen. “I never meant to put pressure on you, Oliver. However, you are an adult. You shouldn’t expect the realities to be hidden from you.”

“I shouldn’t expect to be the only thing that brings peace to this house, either.” Oliver felt as if the room was closing in on him. “I’m going out for a walk.”

At the look of panic is Moira’s eyes, he quickly said, “I’ll be back for dinner, mom. Don’t worry. You’ll have your first not silent dinner in months.”

Striding through the halls, Oliver made his way toward the gardens that were kept with meticulous care. He ducked out the doors, the cold winter air biting his cheeks. He kept his arms close to his body, refusing to return to the warmth of the house to find a coat. Curving his shoulders inward, Oliver wound his back into the far edge of the garden; the more over-grown section where he and Tommy used to play as children, and later Thea. There was a large wooden custom built fort, an old, rusted swing-set, and a few other decrepit structures that made up the mini-park the three children spent countless hours playing in.

A gazebo with peeling green paint sat over behind all the playground equipment. Oliver climbed the steps as he remembered the many picnic lunches he’d had on blankets spread out over the boards. His life had been so simple in those days. His parents had been happy, or at least he believed they’d been. Nothing was expected of him except to be their mischievous and rambunctious son. And then Thea had come along and everything had changed. Oliver sat down on one of the bench seats that lined the gazebo.

It wasn’t Thea’s presence, per se. His parents loved Thea just as much as they loved him, but their father always looked at Thea with a bit of sadness Oliver could never understand. A few years later, when Thea was older, the house became quieter and his father stayed at the office longer and then stopped coming home at all, sometimes for long stretches of time. And then Oliver noticed his parents had stopped speaking altogether. He was pretty sure there was infidelity involved, but he was unsure on what side. Maybe both. And then they each focused all their attention on him; on his schooling, on his skill-set, and on his social life. It was as if Oliver had become their sole purpose for sticking together. Thea was ten, she still had the innocence of childhood to buffer her from their parents’ tumultuous marriage. Oliver didn’t have the luxury of, as his mother so aptly put it, being hidden from reality.

But shouldn’t he? He was only 20 years old! He shouldn’t have to be concerned that every action he took would be the stumbling block to finally tumble the long-standing Robert and Moira Queen. Subconsciously, he knew he was pushing it; testing to see just how far he could push before it fell. And what a relief that would be when it toppled.

“Ollie!”

Oliver whirled to face the tiny shriek. Thea, his ten year old sister, raced toward him and threw herself into his open arms.

“Speedy!” He cried, catching her and hugging her tight to him.

Her skinny arms grasped him around his neck, threatening to cut off his air supply in the best way little arms did. He kissed her thick brown hair. She was the best reason to come home; sometimes his only one.

“I missed you!” He told her as he lowered her to her feet and then squatted to her level.

“I missed you, too!” She clutched his hands in hers, her eyes bright and happy to see him. “Why can’t you come home more?” She put on a pretty pout as she looked at him from under her lashes.

Oliver had tried to snow his parents on needing a semester to recuperate after two back to back summer sessions, thus buying him more time to figure out a way to break the news he’d been “suggested to find another avenue of education”. Robert and Moira hadn’t bitten. He’d told them he’d registered for another semester only to spend the time hiding out at the Merlyn’s rarely used cabin on Pine Lake. He came home on the odd weekend and on all the expected holidays, such as this Thanksgiving.

“Sorry, munchkin,” Oliver replied as he sat down again, pulling Thea into his lap.

“It’s no fun when you’re not here,” Thea told him, laying her head against his shoulder. “It’s so quiet and mommy cries a lot.”

“She does?” It surprised Oliver to hear from his little sister about any emotion escaping from their mother. No matter how angry he was, Oliver loved his parents and he truly wanted to make them proud; just not at the expense of his sanity. It pained him to think of his mother alone in their large house crying. Things must be worse than he thought if his mother was slipping and crying where some could see her; Thea, of all people in the house.

Thea nodded. “Daddy doesn’t stay at night, anymore. After dinner he leaves. They don’t think I know, but one night, I snuck out of my room and saw him leaving with a suitcase.”

Oliver hugged her closer. He could tell she was confused. Robert and Moira never showed anything but a united front for Thea. He hated that he had to be so far away from her.

“Hey, guess what?”

Thea swiveled hurriedly in his lap. “What?” She breathed with excitement, bright eyes gazing at him.

“I think there is a certain sister of mine who I want to take for ice cream and a movie. Do you think you could help me find her?”

Thea began giggling. “I’m right here, Ollie!”

Oliver stood, taking Thea’s hand in his. “No,” he teased. “I am sure she is somewhere in the garden. We need to find her! Otherwise, I’ll have to take you and my sister will be very upset with me.”

“Ollie!” Thea cried, hanging on his arm with a delightful smile. “Stop messing around! I’m your sister!”

Giving an exasperated sigh with a dramatic shrug of his broad shoulders, Oliver said, “Well, if you’re not going to help me find her, I guess I will have to take you, then.”

“Piggy back!”

“Yes, milady.” Oliver knelt to the ground as his little sister clambered up onto his back. With Thea attached securely to his back, Oliver made his way toward the secret exit out of the garden, grateful to spending the afternoon with the only person who he never had to worry about disappointing.

* ~ * ~ *

The afternoon was spent with many laughs and incessant conversation between Oliver and Thea. Soon, though, each knew they needed to return home. Oliver marveled at the noticeable change is his vivacious young sister as they rode in the back of the limo toward home. She turned sullen and withdrawn. He decided quickly he needed to make more of an effort to be home and to be there for Thea, to guard her from the harsh realities of their family life.

As the sun sank lower behind the horizon, the car pulled up in front of the ornate entrance to the Queen House. The siblings exited the vehicle and walked toward the door, hearing the smooth whir of the motor as the car pulled off toward the garage. The large wooden door swung open before Oliver and Thea even set foot in the entryway. Moira stood on the other side, smiling broadly at her children. Oliver knew she’d been watching for them with the rapacity with which she opened the door.

“Did you two enjoy your afternoon together?” Moira asked.

Oliver heard the tiny edge in his mother’s voice. He bit back a sharp retort. He knew she would have rather them stayed in this house and served as a buffer between her and Robert. He didn’t care, though. He was done thinking and worrying about them. He was here for Thea. She was the reason he would stick around.

Ignoring her barbed remark, Oliver helped Thea out of her coat, handing it along with his to a member of the house staff that stepped out of the shadows to take them.

“Well, just on the off chance you two haven’t ruined your dinner with pizza and ice cream and whatever other bad things you chose to partake in, dinner will be served in half an hour. Why don’t you go dress?” Moira suggested.

“Sure thing, Mom,” Oliver nodded, noticing the martini glass in his mother’s hand. “Aren’t you starting a little early?” He whispered.

Moira arched a brow. “It’s ten after five. The drinking hour has begun.”

Oliver shook his head and bounded up stairs after his sister. The two diverged at the head of the stairs, each going to their separate quarters. Oliver took a quick shower, combing back his hair from his face. He looked in the mirror as he pulled a dark sweater over his under shirt. With his hair combed back, he looked ridiculous with the goatee he’d cultivated. Making a split decision, he returned to his bathroom and quickly shaved it off. Appraising himself in the mirror again, he immediately mourned its absence. He was once more looking at a baby-faced reflection.

Glancing at the heirloom timepiece on his wrist, Oliver stepped out of his room and walked down to Thea’s. They had five minutes to spare. He knocked on the door. When no one answered, he opened the door and peeked his head in. The room was dark and quiet. She must have already gone down to dinner.

The table, Oliver saw as he arrived in the formal dining room, was set elaborately for four. His father and mother were there and seated at opposite ends of the table; his father with a fifth of scotch at his hand and Moira with some dinner wine. Thea sat in between the two with a tumbler of water beside her plate. Taking his place opposite of Thea, Oliver completed the circle. He took the napkin wrapped around the silverware and shook it out, placing it in his lap. Once he was seated, the servers began dinner.

A dinner waiter came forward with a bottle of wine. Oliver placed his hand over his glass and shook his head. “Just some water, thank you.”

“Certainly, sir.” The man melted away only to appear with a pitcher of crystal water. He poured and then disappeared.

“Francis, please tell the cook we are ready to be served,” Moira spoke to a woman standing in the corner.

Oliver wondered fleetingly why they couldn’t just eat like normal people; the food on the table and everyone serving themselves. Green salads came out and were placed in front of each dinner patron.

The silence was deafening. No words were spoken; just the gnashing of teeth as they chewed the lettuce.

“Thea, tell us about the afternoon you spent with your brother.” Moira smiled with encouragement at her youngest.

Thea gave a quick account of their activities this afternoon; it sounded like a summer camp she’d been forced to go to, the kind where they attempt to divert the children from their sad existences with one fun thing after the next. Oliver should know, he’d been shipped off to many during his summers.

When they exhausted all topics concerning Thea, talk turned to Oliver.

“How is this semester coming, Oliver?” Robert asked, a gleam of pride in his eyes. “Are you prepared for finals next month?”

Oliver nodded, taking another gulp of his water.

“Have you given any thought to where you would like to go for your graduate work?”  
Oliver swallowed, gazing at his dad, perplexed. “Graduate work?”

Robert cut a small bite of his lobster tail. “Yes. After you earn your bachelors, I assume you will go on to obtain your Masters. If you’re going to be CEO one day –“

“You know, Dad,” Oliver sighed. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Robert chewed, pinning Oliver with an intense stare. Oliver wondered if he knew somehow. His father laid down his knife and fork, wiped his hands on his napkins, and then clasped them, leaning forward to look at Oliver closer.

“Your Junior year is really when you need to start thinking about continuing your education.”

“But I’m only a sophomore.”

Robert leaned back in his chair. “It wouldn’t hurt to get a jump on things,” he returned, waving a hand to the side as if showing Oliver where to jump. “I’ll make some calls. We’ll see where the best connections are.”

“Dad, I don’t even know what I really want to do yet –“

Robert shook his head. “That’s fine. It’s what college is for. Eventually, though, you’ll come to work at Queen Consolidated. We just need to make sure you have some things to pad your resume.”

“No, Dad,” Oliver said sternly. “I mean, I don’t know if I even want to work at the company.”

Robert continued as if he didn’t hear him. “After school, it would be best for you to do some philanthropic work; makes the bleeding hearts feel better. Then you can possibly do a term as an intern in the political sector. All the while, a nice comfy office will be waiting for you back at home.”

“Dad!” Oliver exclaimed.

The clatter of forks was heard as Thea and Moira reacted to Oliver’s raised voice. Robert narrowed his eyes at his son.

“I don’t think that tone is necessary, do you, Oliver?”

Oliver breathed out his nose. “No, I’m sorry.”

“I was trying to make a plan for your future,” Robert rattled on.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “No, Dad, you were making a to-do list for my life. Did it ever occur to you I might want something different?”

Robert furrowed his eyebrows, the thought absolutely foreign to him. “Oliver, this is the family’s company. It’s expected of you to take the helm one day.”

“One day, sure. But not in the next five to ten years. I’m not saying I don’t want to work there, but I want to see what else is out there first.”

“You act as if this job is not good enough for you,” Robert replied. “You want a challenge? Here it is. It’s challenging to lead a force of people; to make innovations in the business world that affect change.”

“Can we find another vein of dinner conversation?” Moira asked. “Business used to be strictly forbidden at the dinner table.”

“We are not discussing business, Moira,” Robert pointed out sharply. “We are discussing our son’s future.” 

“Yes, Robert, but a future centered around business. Either way, this conversation is getting too rowdy for my taste. Why not finish our dinner pleasantly and talk about this tomorrow?”

Robert ignored Moira and began once more. “Oliver, you do have to plan at some point. Your life can’t be all parties and clubs. You are going to have to grow up eventually and we would like you to have a stable future. One day, you will have other responsibilities.”

“You think all I do is party?” Oliver shouted. “You don’t think I know I have responsibilities?”

“Oliver, please, lower your voice,” Moira pleaded.

“Why?” Oliver continued to rant. “You think the servants will talk about how we aren’t the perfect family?”

Robert stood to his feet. “You do not take that tone with your mother, young man.”

“Like you care!” Oliver came to his feet, as well. “You haven’t said one word to her since we sat down! You think I have no responsibilities? Maybe you should start focusing on yours and leave me to worry about mine!”

Oliver stormed off, too upset to worry about the tears falling down Thea’s cheeks.

Moira laid her forehead in her hands. Once she was sure she had regained her composure, she looked up and met Robert’s eyes. They were the same eyes Oliver had; eyes that couldn’t lie. He looked at her, sadness and betrayal in their depths.

“Thea, sweetie, why don’t you go and play? Your father and I need to be alone.”

Thea nodded. She got up from the table, leaving her half-eaten dinner and scampered from the room.

Robert and Moira gazed at each other; each one seeing who would break the stalemate first. It was Moira.

“We can’t keep doing this, Robert. Nothing will be left if we do. Oliver and Thea deserve better. I asked you if you wanted to leave, if you wanted out –“

“And I told you no,” Robert spoke quietly.

“Then why are you still punishing me?” Moira’s choked on her tears. “When you decided to stay, I thought that meant we could move on, that we would leave this behind us.”

More silence followed.

“You know I’m not alone in this,” Moira pointed out.

Robert closed his eyes as if he was in physical pain. “I know,” he acknowledged.

“What are going to do?” Moira asked.

Robert, who had sat once Oliver left the room, shook his head. He looked at his estranged wife. “What can we do?”

* ~ * ~ *

“If one more person orders a pumpkin spice anything, I may have to break the cappuccino machine,” Felicity groused as she opened the fifth bag of pumpkin spice of the day and began refilling the canisters.

“Blame the season,” Rachel, the barista who was working her shift with her this evening, commented as she prepared a skinny latte with easy whip and a dash of pumpkin spice.

“Stuff the season!” Felicity caught sight of someone waiting at the counter. “I got it.” She told Rachel, wiping her hands on her apron.

“How can I help you?”

“I would like a Pumpkin Spice Cappuccino with extra foam.”

Felicity looked up quickly to find Tommy Merlyn grinning wickedly at her.

“We are all out of Pumpkin Spice,” Felicity simpered playfully.

Tommy leaned over the counter, glancing around Felicity at the open canisters behind her. “What are those?” He pointed.

“Okay, you asked for it.” Felicity stepped away and grabbed a mallet they used to crush espresso beans. She poised it next to the cappuccino machine in a mock swing. “One more word and the cappuccino machine gets it.”

Tommy lifted his hands in surrender. “I give! Anything but the cappuccino machine!” Tommy grinned.

“Smart man,” Felicity deemed as she gestured toward him with the mallet before setting it back down on the counter. “Now, what can I really get you?”

“Just some black with a small vanilla bean stir.”

“Coming up.” Felicity walked back to the drink counter and Rachel resumed filling up the canisters. “Is this to go?”

Tommy looked at his watch. “Nah, I’ll have it here. Office is on holiday hours this week, so we don’t open for another hour.”

“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” Felicity made conversation as she plucked a vanilla bean from the jar, snipped it to the correct length, and stirred it into the liquid.

“I’ll probably go into the office. According to my father, it’s just another day,” Tommy said, accepting the cup and saucer from Felicity. She picked up the small carafe of heavy cream they kept on the counter and poured just enough to make the liquid rise subtly. “Perfect,” Tommy affirmed.

“Do you and your Dad not celebrate Thanksgiving?”

Tommy shook his head, choosing to take a seat at the one of the stools at the counter. “We haven’t since my mom died. We used have these elaborate family dinners but that all stopped when we lost mom. He doesn’t expect other people to come in on the holidays, which is shocking given the Machiavellian tendencies he exhibits, but he expects me to be there.”

“And where is he?”

“I have no idea. He disappears on Thanksgiving; has since I was a kid.”

Felicity scoffed, scandalized.

“Felicity, it’s fine,” Tommy assured her. “I actually prefer it.”

Felicity’s face softened. “I seriously doubt that, Tommy.”

Tommy shrugged.

“Well, that’s great, then!”

Tommy scanned her face, slight apprehension over her excitement.

“Why?”

“Because that means you’re are free to accept the invitation to spend Thanksgiving with us,” Felicity announced.

“With your family?”

“With my mom and her husband and the thing they keep calling my sister,” Felicity nodded.

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, Tommy. You’ll be doing me a favor! Things aren’t as heinous with Laurel as they usually are but this is the first time we will be spending all day together in forced family merriment. Your presence there would be a definite tension breaker.”

“But Detective Lance –“

“After my mom has stuffed him full of moist turkey and roasted potatoes, he’ll be a lamb, I promise.” There was a hint of longing in Tommy’s eyes. Felicity knew she was near to closing the deal.

“Will there be Pumpkin Pie?”

Felicity groaned is disgust. “An illicit amount of pumpkin flavored dishes will be at your disposal.”

“Then I’m in.”

“Great!” Felicity exclaimed, a wide gracing her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who have come back to read! Sorry it took so long. I am trying to not let it lapse again. Have a great weekend and Happy Labor Day to state-siders!


	7. Personal Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PERSONAL UPDATE

THIS IS NOT CHAPTER BUT A MESSAGE INSTEAD.

 

I must apologize once again.  To those following this story, I am very sorry that this is dragging so.  I do not plan on abandoning this story but between my job and my personal life, I just don't have a lot of free time right now.  I am slowly but surely working on the next chapter and am currently half-way done.  I cannot say anything other than I am terribly sorry.  I understand how annoying it is when authors leave their stories or still continually promise to come back to a story, and yet they never do.  I am putting this here as a promise that soon this space will hold an update.  If you would like to receive a note for when I do post the next update here, please let me know in the comments and I will message you personally.  I will not get my feelings hurt if you choose to let this story go.  Not only do I understand, but I deserve it for not making this more of a priority.  I do value anyone who reads my work and I feel terrible having let y'all down.  

 

Thank you for your patience and your continued interest in 'And Then I Saw You'.  Have a lovely Wednesday. =)

Summer

P.S. This is a note to let all current and new readers know that this fic is back up an running. I, once again, must apologize profusely for letting this story fall away for two years. I had some difficulties in those two years, but I am now back, still in love with writing, still in love with Olicity, and still in love with this story!! I toyed with the idea of deleting this, but then I decided to keep this announcement. It is important to know that from the last update you just read to this next one was a difference of two years. If there are little changes in style or character voice, I apologize. That is something I cannot control, unfortunately, as my writing ability did change slightly over the years. Thank you so much for reading and showing us fanfiction authors love. We don't do it for the money but because we are passionate about writing and about these shows and relationships and we want to share that passion with you. Thank you allowing us the opportunity. We love all of you. I love all of you. :)


	8. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, y'all!! Let me first say I have to apologize for letting this go for nearly two years! First, my mom was having some health problems but she is doing much better now. Then, my laptop died on me and I had to save up to buy a new one. Finally, my office finished construction on a new building and we just moved in earlier this year and I had to get my office set up. I am back now, trying to catch up on the two latest seasons of Arrow and still loving Olicity and fanfiction!! Thank you to those who waited patiently and left me words of encouragement. I really appreciated it! I doubt this update will live up to the two years wait in which it took me to write it, but I still hope y'all enjoy it.

_**CHAPTER SIX** _

_**NOVEMBER 2005 - THANKSGIVING, LANCE RESIDENCE**_

The sights, sounds, and smells of Thanksgiving filled the Lane-Smoak household. Everything standing still was draped in an orange shimmery fabric tucked behind fake leaves of every Autumn color imaginable. Small pumpkins and Native American corn husks were grouped together on top of tiny bales of hay in many nooks and crannies. The sound of the Macy’s Day Parade warred with the cheers and jeers of the football game between the Starling Stags and the Metropolis Sharks. The house smelled of the savory turkey still cooking on the oven, a new batch of Hot Spice Punch in the percolator, and a myriad of pies warming on the cook-top in the kitchen.

The small, intimate family gathering had morphed into a regular Thanksgiving Bash, hosted by Quentin and Donna to celebrate their first holiday as a happily married couple. Many were members of the Starling City PD and their families, including Lucas Hilton and his wife, Jeannie, while a few were from Donna’s tentative foray in to the realm of city volunteerism. Most of the men had joined Lance and Lucas in the den for the ‘big game’ and the wives seemed to congregate around the dining table, sipping coffee, punch, or wine.

Felicity and Laurel were somewhere in the middle. Sitting on the stairs, they looked between the den and the dining room, watching the few young children who accompanied their parents scamper back and forth.

“What happened to ‘just the family’ dinner?” Laurel asked, shell-shocked.

“Do we even have enough food to feed all these people?” Felicity pondered.

“Jeannie is a vegetarian,” Laurel supplied. “More turkey for everyone else.”

“Maybe all the women are on some of those crazy diets,” Felicity said with a shrug. “Then we won’t have to worry about feeding any of them.”

“I doubt it,” Laurel replied. “Sergeant Emory’s wife has been eyeing the goods from her seat at the table since she sat down. We could be looking at a feeding frenzy.”

Suddenly, a loud buzzer erupted, causing both girls to jerk in a startled jump.

From the other room, the television was muted, leaving the commentary from the parade as the sole victor in the volume war that had been being waged for a few hours.

“Gentlemen!” Lance crowed. “I believe that is the signal for the main event!”

Laurel and Felicity watched as Donna intercepted her husband as he, followed by a crowd of other men, came out of the den. The two girls giggled at the veritable meeting of the sexes; the women holding glasses of wine gathered around a spray of food coming up against a huddle of men, their leader holding the almighty remote.

“Typical men,” Donna quipped with a teasing smile. “The timer means it’s time to take the turkey out of the oven; it still needs to rest for another hour.”

“And what are we supposed to do for another hour?” Lance replied.

“What you’ve been doing for the past two hours. Eating peanuts and yelling at an inanimate object,” Donna answered, leaving no doubt just where Felicity’s own sass came from.

To anyone who didn’t know them, Donna and Lance would seem to be having a frustrated tiff; but to those gathered close by, they knew the married couple was enjoying their sarcastic bantering. While most of the men returned to the game, Lance followed Donna into the kitchen to remove the giant roasting pan the turkey and the trimmings were situated in from the oven.

The doorbell chimed pleasantly.

"Oh, that's for me!" Felicity cried with glee as she sailed off her seat on the stairs, making her way to the door.

"Who says its for you?" Laurel asked, as she, too, stood and followed to the door.

With her hand on the knob, Felicity faced Laurel. "Because I invited someone."

"You invited someone?"

"What? I can't invite someone?"

Laurel shrugged. "It’s just unexpected. No one really sees you as the socialite type."

"I'm taking that as a compliment," Felicity said with a grin. Opening the door, her smile grew wider as she saw Tommy standing on the stoop, a bouquet of Amber colored Gerber Daisies in his hand. "Tommy! I'm glad you made it."

Tommy stepped inside, smiling first at Felicity and then at Laurel.

Laurel stepped forward and hugged Tommy tightly, crushing the flowers between them as Tommy hugged her back with his free arm. Felicity hung back, letting Laurel greet their mutual friend. Donna and Lance came into the room just as Laurel and Tommy released their embrace. Tommy's face clouded slightly when he caught sight of Quentin who was sending a cold stare his way.

Felicity cleared her throat and looked pointedly at the flowers Tommy was holding.

“Oh! Mrs. Lance, these are for you.” Tommy stepped forward, offering the flowers. “Mr. Lance.”

“Thomas,” Quentin replied, still giving Tommy the cool treatment.

“You’re Tommy Merlyn!” Donna exclaimed. Rushing forward, Donna wrapped Tommy in a welcoming and enthusiastic hug. “Call me Donna, please!”

Wild brown eyes locked with Felicity’s and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I hope it’s okay that Felicity invited me,” Tommy ventured as she released him.

“Fine by us!” Donna said, sending Lance a weighted stare.

Lance stared at Tommy from underneath suspicious eyebrows. After meeting all warning eyes of the women in his life, Lance cleared his throat gruffly and spoke, “Take off your coat, Thomas, and I’ll put it away. We got the game on if you want…”

“Dinner will be ready in about forty-five!” Donna announced as Lance led Tommy toward the den. She turned to Felicity and Laurel. “I have an idea. Why don’t you go into the sunroom and set up the card table we use for Monopoly? I am sure the four of you would rather eat together and not crammed in with the old people, am I right?”

“Four?” Felicity repeated in question.

“Yes,” Donna said brightly.

“That sounds nice, Donna, thank you,” Laurel said pleasantly.

Felicity looked at Laurel as if she’d just agreed to dance naked.

“What?” Laurel said.

“You two go get the table set up and I’ll drag out a table cloth somewhere.” Donna wandered off down the hall leading to her and Lance’s bedroom in search of a table covering.

“You just agreed with something my mother said,” Felicity pointed out as they walked through the kitchen and into the sunroom right off the back of the house that overlooked the foggy backyard. “Did you smoke something this morning?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. She opened the closet door and pulled out the card table. With Felicity’s help, they had it set up in the center of the room and were pulling the folding chairs out when Donna arrived with a large plaid Christmas tree skirt.

“At least it’s festive!” She chirped, shaking it out and spreading it over the table.

“So,” Laurel sighed as Donna left once again. “You invited Tommy Merlyn, huh? Isn’t he a little too old for you?”

“It’s not what you think,” Felicity replied as she gathered some plastic cups and eating utensils along with paper napkins they kept in a large picnic basket on a shelf by the door. “I asked him if he had plans. He said no. He’s my friend and you get along with him. I thought if you and I were going to be forced to spend time together, we could at least have tolerable company during the misery.”

“Good idea,” Laurel nodded. “It’s odd, though. Tommy normally spends Thanksgiving with the Queens. I wonder why Oliver didn’t mention it.”

“Didn’t mention what?” Felicity asked absently, picking at some black nail polish.

“That Tommy didn’t have any place to go for Thanksgiving.”

The doorbell rang off in the distance.

“Why would he mention it?”

“I was sent in here with these?” Tommy entered the room with two tiny fake cornucopias filled with multicolored grapes and leaves that had seen better days.  
Felicity groaned as took them from Tommy. “It’s not Thanksgiving without the tiny cornucopias.”

“Laurel, Oliver is here!” Donna shouted.

With a glad noise, Laurel scampered from the room.

“Felicity?”

Felicity’s head snapped quickly to the side, meeting Tommy’s concerned eyes.

“Are you okay?”

She realized she'd been staring at the doorway Laurel ran through, waiting for her to return with Oliver. Felicity shook her head and felt a blush creeping up her neck.

“I’m fine,” Felicity assured him with a wide smile. “Just anticipating the delicious meal with a side of ‘Nauseating Laurel and Oliver Should Get a Room’ show.” She turned to the table and put the two old, ragged decorations down in the center.

“We can always revolt and go to Denny’s,” Tommy suggested.

Sensing his own dismay, Felicity faced Tommy again. “I thought you and Oliver were best friends?”

Covering his annoyance, Tommy grinned. “Of course! But even I can get tired of the fairytale princess and her prince routine.”

Felicity recognized the look in Tommy's eyes. She'd seen it numerous times lurking behind her mother's sparkling orbs when growing up and recently, in the mirror in her own reflection. It was a shadow of longing for something you can't have and of guilt because you shouldn't want it. She knew in an instant what Tommy Merlyn was really hiding from the world and it wasn't that he had a brain behind that playboy facade.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Felicity said softly.

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“You have feelings for Laurel, don’t you?”

Tommy forced a laugh. “We’re just friends. Like you and me.”

Felicity cocked her head. “Really?”

Tommy opened his mouth and then closed it. Holding Felicity’s gaze, he opened his palms and shrugged.

Without thinking, Felicity stood up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around Tommy’s neck. The affectionate gesture took Tommy by surprise. A warm smile pulling at his lips, Tommy returned Felicity’s hug, a feeling of relieved gratitude that someone else finally knew and understood the turmoil filling him up inside.

“You do know she could put you in jail for five to twenty, right?”

Tommy and Felicity pulled slightly apart and turned to see Oliver and Laurel standing in the doorway. Laurel was smiling that annoying, girlish smile she always had around Oliver. The two were holding hands, Laurel hanging on to his arm.

Felicity's arms fell from Tommy's neck but she continued to stand close, as a gesture of solidarity.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Oliver said, his eyes meeting Tommy’s and then descending to catch Felicity’s.

Instinctively, she stepped closer to Tommy. A revelation knocked the breath out of her. As much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it, she and Tommy had more in common than she ever thought.

* * *

Oliver watched with a carefully guarded expression as Tommy and Felicity stood uncomfortably close. A deep stab of jealousy hit him fast and hit him hard when he caught a glimpse of Tommy and Felicity embracing. He could feel Laurel like a lead weight fused to his arm as he stood there, the feelings of jealousy and guilt warring inside him. Whether it was apparent to the two women or not, the awkwardness between Tommy and Oliver was palpable for Oliver.

Things had been rocky between them ever since the day outside the Merlyn building when Tommy admitted he had feelings for Laurel. Their bond had furthered splintered at the Halloween party when Oliver had inexplicably lost his cool with that Cooper kid. It was clear, even though Tommy backed him up, that he’d found the display inappropriate seeing as what fueled Oliver’s reaction was pure jealousy, plain and simple. He didn’t know how to bridge the distance between them. They’d been friends since the day they looked across the school aisle and saw another boy craving obscenities on his desk. They’d never had an angry word cross between them. And now, in a matter of weeks, Oliver felt Tommy drifting farther and farther from him. They were still friends, in the surface definition of the word, but the easy companionship they had enjoyed for the years before was gone.

“Hey, guys!” Donna stuck her head in the doorway, interrupting the uncomfortable exchange. “Food’s ready! Let’s eat!” Her enthusiasm made her blue eyes sparkle and Felicity wished it could be infectious. She disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

Tommy was the first to break the silence, his affable personality craving harmony. “I am starving!” Taking charge, he ushered Felicity and Laurel ahead of him to the buffet line that formed outside the kitchen. They were the last people to arrive.

“I hope there is going to be some left for us,” Oliver chuckled.

“Girls!” Lance stepped out from a group of people and beckoned Felicity and Laurel to him. “Donna wants to get a picture of us.”

“She probably wants proof we aren’t ripping each other’s throats out,” Laurel quipped.

“That is a Kodak moment if there was one,” Felicity agreed as they broke away from Tommy and Oliver to join Lance.

The guys watched them go and Oliver shifted nervously. It was the first time he’d been alone with Tommy since Halloween. They gazed at each other before both their mouths opened.

“You go,” Tommy deferred.

Oliver shrugged. “I…” He trailed off, not quite sure what he was trying to say.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Tommy said. “I’m sorry, man. I should have never told you about my uh… Laurel. I should have kept it to myself. I said I would always have your back and I meant that. It’s just –“

“I don’t understand myself, Tommy. I have been so confused lately.”

Tommy kicked his voice lower. “Are you feeling something for Felicity?”

Oliver’s first response was one of incredulity. “What? No! Of course not.”

Tommy lifted a brow.

“You gotta admit, there is something about her. She’s… different.”

“You once said that about Laurel,” Tommy reminded.

“I know,” Oliver replied softly. Maybe it was because Felicity would hardly give him the time of day and when she did, she was warm and open. He felt like he was on a roller-coaster, highs and lows and spirals coming constantly.

“Look, I am not gonna deny that I have a personal stake in this. I don’t want to see Laurel hurt. And I know despite everything, you don’t want to hurt Laurel, either.”

Oliver shook his head. He loved Laurel, in the way he understood love. Tommy was right, she had chosen him and he needed to work to deserve that.

“I don’t know what was going on with Felicity, but whatever it was, it’s over,” Oliver told him. “I don’t want to screw up what I have with Laurel. Plus, Felicity can’t stand me, so what is the point?”

Tommy gave a small grin to accompany Oliver’s forced laugh. They both knew for Oliver, it was the thrill of the chase. Tommy only hoped the fact that it was Laurel’s younger step-sister would keep his friend in line.

“Are you still staying at the cabin?” Tommy asked, moving to a more neutral topic.

“Yeah, and thanks again for setting that up. Hey, why did you tell me you were spending Thanksgiving with your Dad?”

Tommy ducked his head in a sheepish gesture. “I didn’t want to make things any weirder than they were. I was actually going to spend it in the office until Felicity invited me.”

“Felicity invited you?” Oliver asked.

Tommy’s gaze turned shrewd. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No. I just didn’t know you two were such close friends,” Oliver answered innocently, though he knew Tommy would read between the lines.

“We aren’t. I think she felt sorry for me. My actual capacity is a Laurel-Felicity Buffer.”

“They seem to be getting along fine.”

Oliver and Tommy looked toward where merry laughter was coming from, watching Quentin and Donna posing for a picture with their daughters. Lance’s partner was holding the camera and saying things to nurse reluctant chuckles from Laurel and Felicity. Finally, he hit pay dirt, receiving a real laugh for his time. Seeing the smiles and loving words this awkward family gave each other made Tommy and Oliver feel the void keenly of what was missing every time they went home. Laurel and Felicity may have endured each other, but their family was at least a respite from the real world, not the cause of the strife.

Oliver looked over at Tommy. “I am glad you’re here, man.”

“You, too.”

A sense of relief blanketed both men. They knew fences had been mended; a united front against the onslaught of their world once again. When their friends returned to them, the conversation took on a much more animated and entertaining quality.

Making their way through the buffet, the foursome filled their plates and returned to their special table.

“I don’t think I have ever had a Thanksgiving like this,” Oliver said mid-way through the meal. “Ours was always more-“

“Stuffy,” Tommy finished for him.

Felicity and Laurel laughed.

“What? You mean not everyone serves their dinners on Chinet’s Finest with plastic utensils?” Felicity returned.

“And beverages from red solo cups?” Laurel added, holding up her cup in a salute before taking a sip of her tea.

It was Tommy and Oliver’s turn to laugh.

“And we didn’t have turkey,” Oliver informed the group.

“What did you have?” Laurel asked. She had never been invited to a Queen Thanksgiving. The holiday had been such an event at the Lance Household, she not convince her father to let her join the Queens’.

“Goose,” Tommy supplied. “And it was always dry as it’s bones!”

“It was the one thing my mother knew how to make. Or, she thought she knew how to make it.”

“Wait.” Laurel held up a hand. “Your mother tried to cook a Goose? Every Thanksgiving?”

Oliver nodded.

“Judging by the tones, I gather this is quite out of character?” Felicity observed.

“Moira Queen doesn’t cook,” Tommy grinned. “She plans.”

“Did she try to make anything else?” Laurel questioned.

“No! Only the goose!” Oliver exclaimed.

“The caterers always made the other dishes,” Tommy said. “Moira never understood why the food was all gone except for her Thanksgiving goose!” He laughed, the rest joining him.

“Well, my mother has quite out done herself this year,” Felicity offered. “I think she wanted to make a good impression.”

“She can impress me anytime if it means I get to eat more of this,” Tommy punctuated his statement with a big mouthful of sweet potato casserole.

“You can have it. All of it,” Felicity replied, pushing her sweet potato casserole off her plate and onto Tommy’s. “I think I’ll stick with the mashed potatoes, instead!”

“What did you and your mom do for Thanksgiving before this?” Oliver asked.

“Mom was normally working,” Felicity began hesitantly. “She got paid double for working holidays and made better tips from the other poor schmucks who wound up in a lounge on the biggest national familial holiday of the year. I would normally order Chinese and have it waiting for her when she got home. She’d change into her pajamas and we would have a Doris Day movie marathon, stuffing our faces with Chinese. Whatever extra tips Mom made, we would use to go shopping the next day during the Black Friday sales.”

Laurel met Felicity’s eyes over the table. The two shared a look of mutual shared empathy; for the mother Laurel had lost and for the difficult life Felicity had led before moving to Starling.

“I’m with Tommy,” Laurel agreed. “Dad can cook one thing: Chicken Marsala. After mom…” Laurel stopped, holding tears in check. “Mom always did Thanksgiving up big, the works. After, I spent many Thanksgiving at the Station. It was nice. Dad would setup a meal for the guys who couldn’t be with their families and for families to come to the station to spend with guys who were on call. It was a nice distraction from what things used to be. This is the nicest Thanksgiving I’ve had in a few years.” She sent a loving glance at Oliver, laying her hand on his arm and squeezing.

“Mom would always take me to the Soup Kitchen.” All eyes turned to Tommy. “My father hated it. But, he loved my mother and whatever she wanted, she got. So every year, Dad would plan this elaborate celebration with the perfect food, the perfect music, the perfect guests. And without fail, Mom would come down dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. They would have a screaming fight in the other room and then next thing I knew, I would be packed up in the car and we’d be driving to the city. I loved it there. No one expected me to be perfect or to be a Merlyn. I’d hang out with the veterans and ask all day for war stories. I’d play with kids who lived with their mom in the alley two blocks over. I felt normal.”

“My favorite Thanksgiving was the year after Thea had been born.” Oliver tapped his fork on the table absently, caught in the melancholy of the moment. “It was the first and only Thanksgiving I can remember where it was just us. We didn’t even have any house staff that day. And there was no goose. We had spaghetti. And meatballs. We ate in the kitchen, pulling up bar stools and Thea in her high chair. We felt like a real family that day. No one talked about companies or business or school. That night, we went and saw Toy Story at the movie theater. I spent the next few weeks convinced my toys were talking when I left the room and kept trying to catch them in the act.” Oliver laughed quietly.

Laurel cleared her throat and lifted her cup, intimating the others should follow her suit.

“I propose a toast,” she said as all cups were lifted aloft. “To great Thanksgiving memories, old and new.”

“To great food, traditional and not so traditional,” Tommy added, eying the slices of pumpkin and pecan pie he’d snagged along with the Rugelach cookies; a yummy Jewish pastry Donna and Felicity made as a treat when Felicity was growing up.

“To Black Friday and the purely capitalistic American way.” Felicity raised her glass a little higher.

“To friendships, both old and new.” Oliver looked at both Laurel and Tommy before he caught Felicity’s eyes, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

The cups met over the middle of the table with a plastic crunch.

* * *

Felicity ducked out quickly as soon as they had finished their meals. She had to get out of the room and the closeness of Oliver Queen. It had been like the night he’d first joined them for dinner, only worse. Damn it all if she didn’t like him now! His Thanksgiving memory had touched her deeply. The thought of Oliver, even at an early age, feeling the fallacy of his family made her heart ache. No wonder he behaved the way he did. For the millionth time since Donna and she arrived in Starling, Felicity realized how lucky she had always been. She retreated to her rooftop perch, the place she went to for solace.

“So this is where you disappeared to.”

Felicity jerked around, finding a dashing Tommy Merlyn leaning out her bedroom window.

“How did you find me?”

“I asked your mother.” Tommy crawled the rest of way out, taking a seat next to Felicity. Together, they looked out across the neighborhood. Through their breath mingling in front of them, they gazed at the beautiful vista of tall trees in the middle of changing color, from deep green to vibrant shades of reds and oranges.

“If there is one thing Starling has on Vegas, it would be this,” Felicity breathed. She never tired of looking at the landscape in front of her. There was comfort in the timeless trees; they never changed, just stood, watching, guardians marking time.

Tommy was silent beside her as he also appreciated the view. His silence did not last for long, though.

“It was Halloween, wasn’t it?”

Felicity turned her head and looked at him with carefully schooled eyes. “What?”

“That was when your opinion of Oliver changed. When you saw him as more than just your step-sister’s stuck up boyfriend.”

With a swish of thick dark hair, Felicity faced away again. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Come on, Felicity,” Tommy urged. “You saw through me like cellophane. You knew I had feelings for Laurel. You wouldn’t have been able to pick up on that unless you knew what I was going through, too.”

Felicity blew out a sigh. She was way too young for life to be this complicated.

“Why are you able to be yourself?” Felicity questioned. “There is no façade, Tommy. You are who you are. With Oliver, you never know. There is Laurel’s version of Oliver, the public version of Oliver, and then –“

“The one he is with you?”

Felicity nodded. “How do you cut through the others just to… Oliver?”

“If you ever come up with an idea, be sure to let him know. Oliver doesn’t even know who Oliver is.”

“Are his parents really as messed up as they are made out to be?”

Tommy swallowed. Moira and Robert Queen were the closest things he had to parents himself. The way they hurt each other hurt him as much as it hurt Oliver.  
“The Queens are good people, but there is so much about our world you don’t understand.”

Felicity crossed her legs and turned to face Tommy. “Then help me understand it.”

Narrowing his eyes, Tommy returned, “Why? So you can soothe the tortured soul of Oliver Queen? How do you think Laurel got sucked in anyway? Or any other girl who happens to cross his path? They all think they are going to be the ones to change him! But they never will until Oliver changes himself. Laurel is the only one to have any sort of success. And I can see what it has cost her.”

“Why don’t you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“Tell her he sleeps around!”

“Because she knows. And she takes him back each time.”

Felicity scoffed. “I don’t know why.”

“Oliver was there for her when no one else was,” Tommy said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“When Laurel’s mom died, Lance checked out. He couldn’t deal. By that time, Oliver, me and Laurel were good friends. Laurel leaned on Oliver a lot. He got her through the darkest days. They may not have dated until years later, but it was only a matter of time. Sometimes I feel Oliver and Laurel are destined for each other.”

Tommy thought back to that time. His crush on Laurel was new in its intensity and he longed to be the one who she sought for support, but the passing of Dinah Lance brought memories of his own mother’s death and it was too much for him to handle. He retreated from Laurel and the pain her ordeal caused him.

“You don’t just walk away from the person who saved your life, Felicity,” Tommy finished.

“How do stay friends with them?”

“Because I care about them. Oliver makes Laurel happy and for the most part, Oliver is happy with Laurel. They are my best friends. Their happiness means a lot to me.”

“So you just suffer in silence, huh? How noble.” Felicity knocked his shoulder with her own.

Tommy grinned. “I am so noble it hurts.”

Friendly silence descended again. Felicity was the one who broke it this time.

“Just for clarification, I have no interest in Oliver that way.” Felicity met Tommy’s discerning stare. “Don’t get me wrong, he is hot in that annoying rich boy way and he does make me feel… something. Things have just started going good with this place, I don’t want to do anything to mess it up. It’s just that Oliver said something that night about being my friend. But it’s hard to be friends with someone who you don’t know. And that is all I want. I just want to be friends.”

Tommy believed her. She had none of the pretense the other girls in their circle possessed. She reminded him of Laurel in that way. The only thing was Tommy had heard that line so many times himself he was starting to believe it. He said it to himself in the mirror each morning. And while Oliver was basically his brother, he saw what he did to women. And he didn’t want to see that happen to Felicity.

“Just be careful,” Tommy warned. “We tell the best lies to ourselves.”

* * *

The day grew into evening. Football and parades were finally over and so proceeded hushed conversations over dessert and coffee, no one moving far due to all the food they’d ingested. Amid much laughter and merry voices of the unlikely foursome, whatever food was left or not inhaled by Oliver and Tommy, was put into containers and stored in the fridge. Then they started on the dishes; Felicity sorting, Tommy washing, Oliver drying, and Laurel stacking.

Soon, the kitchen was sparkling. Donna watched from the breakfast nook where she sat with a few of the other wives. It had been so long since she’d seen Felicity smile, let alone laugh with such abandon. She felt validated in her decision that the move to Starling had been what was best for her little genius. She adored Tommy and Oliver for the change they seemed to bring about in her daughter. She knew Quentin did not approve, but Donna heartily disagreed at this moment, watching Felicity giggle while Tommy and Oliver did some kind of Arabian-looking dance with the dish towels. Even Laurel seemed to be happy and content, both she and Felicity sharing smiles and joking with the boys.

“Does your heart good, don’t it?” Quentin whispered in her ear as he stole behind her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her on her neck.

Donna nodded. “I am afraid if I even move it will stir the air and it might all fade away.”

Quentin chuckled. “We are almost ready for the finale.”

“Okay. I’ll start rounding everyone up.” She patted his arm as it slipped from her. She stood and announced loudly, “Time for fireworks!”

“Fireworks? On Thanksgiving?” Felicity said as she wrestled a dish towel from Tommy who had been using it to try and blow his nose.

“A family tradition,” Laurel replied with a grin.

“This one we have always been invited to,” Oliver added, setting his hands atop Laurel’s shoulders and maneuvering her outside. He grabbed two of the big blankets Donna had set by the door for people to pick up as they went outside.

The Lances’ lived in a neighborhood that overlooked a small finger of the bay. Because of Lance’s close friendship with the Fire Marshal, he was always able to put on a small firework display whenever the occasion called for it. He had started one year when he had fireworks left over from the Fourth of July. Laurel had loved it so much he began doing it every year and soon, it drew most of the neighborhood and any friends that were invited.

Oliver handed one of the blankets over to Tommy and they shook them out and laid them on the grass. Settling down in pairs, Oliver and Laurel on one blanket and Felicity and Tommy on another, they looked expectantly toward the rippling water.

Donna appeared at the edge of their blankets. “Laurel, you dad is asking for some gloves he can’t find. Do you know the ones he is talking about? He told me where he thinks they are but I can’t seem to find them.”

“I know a few places he might have put them.” Laurel pushed to her feet and walked off toward the shed in the corner of the yard.

“While she is looking for those, would one of you mind helping me pull out some chairs? Some folks aren’t too keen on sitting on the ground.” Donna shifted her gaze between Tommy and Oliver.

“I’ll help you, Donna,” Tommy offered, popping up himself. He followed along behind Donna, leaving Felicity and Oliver sitting awkwardly alone.

The two of them smiled at each other, acknowledging the other’s presence politely.

“How has school been?” Oliver finally probed.

“You mean, has anyone given me anyone problems since you went all He-Man on Cooper Seldon?” Felicity cocked her head, gazing at Oliver with sarcastic features. He was reclining back on his hands, his long legs straight out in front of him. He held her gaze steadily. “No, they haven’t.”

“Good,” he replied, looking out over the bay.

“Why wasn’t Tommy spending Thanksgiving with you and your family this year? Laurel says he normally spends it with you.”

Oliver took a deep breath. “My family is not exactly celebrating Thanksgiving this year.”

“Really? Was the grocery store all out of Canadian Goose?”

Oliver chuckled. “My parents took a trip.” He turned his gaze from the water back to Felicity. “They went to a marriage retreat.”

“Oh,” Felicity said softly.

“And if you could keep that between us. My little sister, Thea, she thinks they are off on a skiing trip in Colorado and I would like to keep it that way.”

Felicity nodded quickly.

“Anyway, with my parents off on their weekend and my sister staying with a friend, there wasn’t much going on. I guess that is how we ended up here.”

“Don’t sound so enthused, you might break something.” Felicity deadpanned.

“It was a good day. Just might rate up there with Toy Story.”

“Good,” Felicity said with a smile. “You shaved your… um… facial thing.”

“What? Oh!” Oliver’s hand went to his chin. “Yeah, I looked like one of the Backstreet Boys.”

Not thinking, Felicity lifted a hand and touched Oliver’s strong jaw. His skin was smooth underneath her fingers but a little sand-papery from slight stubble. “I like it.”

Oliver raised his own hand, laying it over Felicity’s as she caressed his jawline. “I do, too,” he murmured.

Suddenly, overhead, the night sky was filled with brilliant sparkles of light and crackling booms. Felicity’s heart jumped out of her chest and into her fingers which were still connected to Oliver’s warm skin, his hand heavy on top of hers. She looked quickly up to see the bursts of color, her hand falling to the ground.

“I love fireworks. So full of life and color.”

Oliver watched her, the rapt fascination of a child spread across her face. “They’re beautiful.” Oliver said, his eyes never leaving Felicity’s face.

Across the lawn, Laurel stood in the doorway, watching the exchange closely. She saw Felicity and Oliver, their heads close in conversation. She knew she needed to rejoin them but she couldn’t make her feet move. Her paranoid and jealous nature was rearing its ugly head and was whispering dangerous things in her ear.  She felt, rather than saw, Tommy come up behind her. He followed her eyeline and his shoulders slumped in a sigh.

She looked over her shoulder. “You going to tell me why you and Oliver are acting so stranger?”

Tommy shrugged. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“The two of you know each other’s every move and today you both looked surprised to see the other one.”

“I’ve just been really busy at work. I am trying to show my Dad I can do something other than party.”  
Laurel’s face creased in a smile. “Good for you, Tommy. You shouldn’t let that big brain go to waste just because you have a fat wallet.”

“Ouch,” Tommy laughed. He leaned against the doorway behind her as the fireworks lit up the night. They both looked toward the sky, the lights painting everything in a rainbow of different colors.

Laurel flicked her eyes back to Felicity and Oliver. They were no longer touching, but Laurel bristled. She gripped the doorway, sure she would have splinters.

“You have nothing to worry about Laurel,” Tommy said. “I can assure you, Felicity is not interested in Oliver beyond friendship. She is just grateful to him taking up for her on Halloween.”

Laurel pushed some hair out of her eyes, watching the quick glances Oliver sent Felicity’s way. Tears pricked her eyes.

“I know,” she whispered. “It’s not her I don’t trust.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of my older readers came back for this, thank you so much!! I so appreciate your dedication to waiting for it and I hope y'all enjoyed it! To all my new readers, thank you so much for choosing to spend time reading this! If any of this felt forced or stale, please bear with me! I do feel a little rusty, but I am hoping it will come flowing back soon! 
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much!!


End file.
